THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM 


BY 


FLORA   HAINES   LOUGHEAD 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE   MAN   WHO  WAS  GUILTY'' 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 


1891 


Copyright,  1891, 
BY  FLORA  HAINES  LOUGHEAD. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co. 


M4-//V 

CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  SHADOW  OF  DOOM 1 

II.  WAYS  AND  MEANS 7 

III.  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM 15 

IV.  THE  HEAD  OF  A  FAMILY       ....        27 
V.  TOM'S  APOLOGY 33 

VI.  THE  MAN  WITH  A  HISTORY  ....        40 

VII.  CROSSING  THE  RUBICON     .        .        .        .        .49 

VIII.  DISCOVERY 56 

IX.  A  TOUR  OF  EXPLORATION         .        .        .        .61 

X.  A  BUSY  DAY 71 

XI.  A  HOME  AND  THREE  PATRIOTS        ...    80 

XII.  A  MYSTERIOUS  JOURNEY        ....        86 

XIII.  WINTER  ON  A  CALIFORNIA  RANCH    .        .        .91 

XIV.  THE  ROPE  EXPRESS 97 

XV.   HOPE  AND  THE  BIRDS 106 

XVI.  THE  OLD  ORCHARD 110 

XVII.  MAKING  IMPROVEMENTS 114 

XVIII.  Two  SURPRISES 120 

XIX.  A  TRIP  TO  THE  CITY 129 

XX.   HOPE'S  EMBEZZLEMENT 133 

XXI.  HOPE'S  INDICTMENT 139 

XXII.   HARD  TIMES 148 

XXIII.  THE  SECOND  SEASON 158 

XXIV.  A  PROJECT  AND  AN  ADVENTURE  .        .        .      168 
XXV.   A  PREMATURE  BLAST 176 

XXVI.  THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  BRIDGE    .        .         .       186 

XXVII.   A  PRISONER  OF  WAR 196 

XXVIII.  How  HANK  JONES'S  CLAIM  WAS  SETTLED    .      208 

XXIX.     HOAV    GOD   REMEMBERED 219 

XXX.   PROGRESS 226 

XXXI.  How  TOM  KEPT  His  WORD      .        .        .        .233 


IV  CONTENTS. 

XXXII.  A  NEWSPAPER  ITEM 240 

XXXIII.  THE  PRODIGAL  SON 247 

XXXIV.  HOPE'S  EXPERIMENT 253 

XXXV.  HOPE'S  BLACK  ROSE  AND  WHAT  CAME  OF  IT   258 

XXXVI.  MARTIN  TRIES  TO  SAVE  DR.  JOHN    .        .        .  266 
XXXVII.   DR.  JOHN  is  BROUGHT  TO  BAY      .        .        .      272 

XXXVIII.  AT  THE  CAMP  FIRE 277 

XXXIX.   TROUBLE  IN  THE  VALLEY      ....      284 
XL.  THE  COURT  OF  LAST  RESORT   .        .        .        .293 

XLI.   THE  DOCTOR'S  STORY 299 

XLII.  THE  LAST  BATTLE 305 

XLIII.   THE  MIRACLE  A  BLUNDER  WROUGHT    .        .      320 
XLIV.  PROVING  UP  .  323 


THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   SHADOW  OF  DOOM. 

"  How  long  has  he  been  this  way  ?  " 

It  was  a  physician  who  spoke,  a  gray-bearded, 
elderly  man,  with  a  gruff,  professional  air,  and  kind 
blue  eyes  that  belied  his  manner. 

"  He  was  taken  down  about  three  quarters  of  an 
hour  ago.  But,  if  you  '11  excuse  me,  sir,  I  think 
it 's  been  coming  on  for  some  time.  He  's  been 
queer  and  shaky-like  for  weeks.  Started  in  to 
work  this  morning,  and  dropped  down  all  in  a  heap, 
as  you  see  him." 

The  rays  of  the  morning  sun  entered  the  tall 
windows  of  the  furniture  factory,  and  filtered 
through  the  dust-laden  air  until  they  reached  the 
corner  where  the  speakers  were  standing.  All 
work  was  suspended,  and  the  frank  faces  of  the 
workmen  wore  a  common  expression  of  honest  con 
cern  over  the  calamity  that  had  overtaken  one  of 
their  number. 

At  the  feet  of  the  speakers,  a  man  of  unusual 
stature  and  herculean  frame  lay  stretched  upon  a 


2  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

pier'  of  shttvHigs1 over  which  some  sacking  had  been 
thrp'W'A.  Borljy  limbs';  muscles,  even  the  features 
of  his  face,  might  have  been  fixed  in  an  invisible 
frame  of  iron,  so  rigid  and  motionless  were  they. 
Only  the  brown  eyes,  large  and  gentle,  looked  forth 
with  a  piteous  expression,  telling  that  a  sensitive 
human  soul  was  still  imprisoned  in  the  helpless 
body. 

"  Never  saw  such  a  worker  in  my  life,"  contin 
ued  the  first  speaker,  who  was  the  foreman  of  the 
shop.  "  He  could  do  the  work  of  two  men,  and 
what  is  more,  he  was  always  trying  to  do  it.  No 
use  holding  him  back  !  He  was  like  some  blooded 
horse,  —  always  straining  at  the  bit." 

"  Poor  fellow.  He  's  done  his  last  day's  work," 
said  the  doctor  gravely. 

"  Burst  a  blood  vessel  ?    Dying  ?    I  thought  so." 

"  Worse  than  that.     Paralysis." 

"  My  God !     And  he  may  live  on,  like  that  ?  " 

"  He  may  live  for  months.  Probably  another 
stroke  will  soon  follow.  That  will  be  the  end." 

The  doctor  moved  uneasily  as  he  gave  this  ver 
dict.  Something  in  the  man's  face,  something  in 
the  foreman's  statement,  invested  the  case  with 
more  than  ordinary  interest. 

"  Has  the  man  any  means,  any  one  to  take  care 
of  him  ?  He  ought  not  to  lie  here.  The  City  and 
County  Hospital  cares  for  such  cases'*  — 

The  foreman  cut  him  short,  with  a  decisive  ges 
ture. 

"  Very  few  hard-working,  forehanded  mechanics 


THE  SHADOW  OF  DOOM.  3 

ever  come  to  that.  I  happen  to  know  he  is  a  pay 
ing  member  of  the Mutual  Benevolent  Society. 

Most  of  our  men  belong  to  some  association  of  that 
sort.  Danger  of  accident,  you  know.  That  has 
its  own  hospital,  and  will  take  care  of  him  as  long 
as  he  lives.  It 's  bound  to." 

"  Better  send  for  the  ambulance  at  once,  then." 

The  foreman  stepped  to  the  telephone,  shouted 
to  the  main  office,  waited  a  moment,  and  shouted 
again. 

The  physician  turned  to  go.  Other  calls  were 
pressing,  other  patients  waiting.  There  was  plain 
ly  no  money  in  this  case  :  yet  one  more  question 
forced  itself  upon  him  :  — 

"  Has  he  any  family  ?  " 

The  foreman's  face  clouded  with  unpleasant  rec 
ollection. 

"  The  wife  died  last  year,"  he  explained  in  a  low 
voice.  "  There  are  three  children.  He  set  a  store 
by  them.  We  sent  for  them.  There  they  are 
now." 

There  they  stood,  on  the  threshold  of  the  great 
shop,  and,  unconsciously,  on  the  threshold  of  a  new 
life.  Three  children,  two  boys  and  a  girl,  with 
their  school  satchels  on  their  arms,  and  a  look  of 
anxiety  and  dread  overcasting  their  youthful  faces. 

The  boys  were  the  oldest,  fine,  manly  fellows  of 
twelve  and  fifteen  years,  the  elder  with  something 
of  his  father's  noble  physique.  The  girl  was  a  year 
or  two  younger,  a  quiet,  inconspicuous  little  crea 
ture,  who  shrank  back  at  the  sight  of  the  large  room 


4  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

and  the  strange  men  there ;  yet  she  was  the  first  to 
go  forward  as  their  eyes  swept  the  place  and  fell 
on  the  prostrate  figure  at  the  further  end.  Quietly 
and  swiftly,  like  one  accustomed  to  duties  of  the 
sick-room,  she  sped  to  her  father's  side  and  knelt 
by  his  pallet,  chafing  his  rough  hands  between  her 
own.  The  boys  followed,  and  helplessly  looked 
down  upon  him. 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

Her  white  lips  seemed  to  shape  the  words.  The 
physician,  lingering  against  his  will,  answered 
shortly :  — 

"  Paralysis.  He  must  go  to  the  hospital.  The 
ambulance  is  coming  for  him." 

"  Why  not  home  ?  We  can  take  care  of  him. 
He  will  get  well  sooner  there." 

It  was  Xed,  the  eldest,  who  spoke.  The  doctor 
turned  away.  The  boy  touched  his  arm,  repeating 
the  question.  There  was  no  answer.  He  appealed 
to  the  foreman. 

"  Mr.  Graves,  you  don't  think  —  He  does  n't 
mean  —  that  father  won't  get  well  ?  " 

Then  the  blow  fell  upon  them,  and  fell  heavily, 
and  all  the  men  within  hearing  turned  away,  un 
able  to  bear  the  sight. 

Somebody  announced  that  the  ambulance  had 
come,  but  no  one  seemed  willing  to  disturb  the  lit 
tle  girl,  who  still  hung  over  the  sick  man,  kissing 
his  forehead,  smoothing  his  hair  with  her  hand, 
whispering  endearing  words,  choking  back  her  own 
grief  and  pain,  to  comfort  him,  with  womanly  ten 
derness. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  DOOM.  5 

The  lips  of  the  stricken  man  moved,  but  only  an 
inarticulate  murmur  escaped. 

"  He  is  trying  to  say  something,"  declared  the 
foreman. 

The  girl  listened  intently.  The  physician  bent 
down  his  head. 

"  '  Gatha.'  Agatha !  Is  your  name  Agatha  ?  " 
he  asked  the  child. 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  Hope." 

"'Gather.'  Gather.  That  must  be  the  word. 
Gather  what?" 

Again  the  invalid  made  a  desperate  attempt  to 
speak. 

"  '  Together.'  It  is  4  together,'  "  said  the  little 
girl. 

The  sick  man's  eyes  brightened,  but  still  wore 
the  eager,  anxious  look  that  had  come  into  them 
when  he  first  saw  the  children. 

"What  can  he  mean  by  that?"  asked  a  by- 
sta'nder. 

"  Father,  dear,  do  you  mean  for  us  to  keep  to 
gether?  "  asked  the  child. 

How  the  sick  man's  eyes  shone  in  answer  ! 

"  Then  listen,  father.  Here,  Ned  !  Here,  Mar 
tin  !  "  She  took  their  hands  and  drew  them  close 
to  her,  where  he  could  see  them.  "  Listen,  father. 
We  promise,  Ned  and  Martin  and  I,  that  until  we 
are  men  and  woman  grown,  we  will  never  be  parted. 
We  promise  faithfully.  You  tell  him  so,  Ned ;  and 
you,  Martin." 

His  body  condemned  to  a  living  death,  with  the 


6  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

imperishable  soul  still  chained  within,  how  eloquent 
the  eyes  of  the  father  became,  as  he  heard  this 
promise  !  Then  the  little  maid  forgot  her  womanly 
dignity,  forgot  that  strange  men  were  by,  remem 
bered  only  that  she  was  about  to  part  with  the  dear 
father,  who  had  been  father  and  mother,  too,  since 
the  sweet  young  mother  closed  her  eyes  on  this 
world,  and  that  this  was  a  parting  harder  than  that 
beside  the  coffin. 

"Good-by,  good-by,  father,  dear.  Oh,  father, 
father,  if  I  could  only  stay  with  you  !  We  will  do 
the  best  we  can.  Don't  trouble  about  us.  Pre 
cious,  darling  father,  good-by." 


CHAPTER  II. 

WAYS   AND   MEANS. 

THE  children  found  themselves  standing  on  the 
sidewalk,  with  half -blinded  eyes,  watching  the 
crowds  go  by. 

All  their  faculties  seemed  dulled  by  the  great 
sorrow  that  had  come  upon  them.  Where  to  go 
or  what  to  do  next,  they  did  not  know.  They  had 
no  relatives  to  whom  they  could  appeal  in  their 
need,  no  one  closely  bound  by  the  ties  of  blood  or 
of  friendship,  to  whom  it  would  be  right  and  natural 
to  apply  for  counsel.  Their  lives  had  been  singu 
larly  bound  up  in  each  other,  father  and  children 
relying  upon  each  other  for  help,  companionship, 
and  advice. 

They  were  moving  down  the  street,  and  were  in 
sensibly  retracing  their  steps  to  the  school  from 
which  they  had  lately  come,  graduated  so  harshly 
from  happy  boyhood  and  girlhood  into  the  great 
world's  cares  and  sorrows.  Soon  they  had  reached 
the  schoolhouse,  and  stood,  hesitating,  outside  the 
door  in  the  high  board  fence  that  surrounded  it. 

"  What  is  the  use  ?  "  said  Ned.  "  We  are  through 
with  all  this.  We  have  got  to  study  up  ways  and 
means  of  living." 


8  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Let 's  talk  with  Mr.  Koberts  about  it,"  sug 
gested  Martin. 

Hope  had  not  once  spoken  since  she  left  her 
father.  She  had  been  crying  a  little,  silently,  wip 
ing  her  eyes  by  stealth,  that  the  boys  might  not  see. 
She  followed  them  meekly  now,  as  they  entered 
the  yard,  which  was  prettily  laid  out,  with  neat 
walks  and  rows  of  blossoming  shrubs,  and  a  large 
planked  playground  just  visible  in  the  rear. 

The  schoolhouse  was  a  tall,  three-story  building, 
plain  to  the  very  eaves.  It  somehow  bore  the  look 
of  a  great  factory,  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
the  likeness  extended  further,  for  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  machine  work  in  our  public-school  system 
at  the  West,  as  elsewhere,  and  the  young  minds 
which  are  run  through  this  intellectual  mill  are 
apt  to  come  out  like  pieces  of  modern  furniture  : 
nicely  seasoned,  neatly  joined  and  finished,  and 
well  up  to  the  pattern,  but  lacking  the  individual 
stamp  the  old-fashioned  cabinet-makers  and  school 
teachers  used  to  give. 

The  building  had  a  cheery,  sunshiny  look.  Some 
of  the  windows  were  open,  and  through  them  came 
the  buzz  of  youthful  voices,  the  light  patter  of  feet, 
the  tinkle  of  low-voiced  bells.  From  one  room 
arose  a  merry  chorus,  a  little  out  of  time  and  very 
much  out  of  tune. 

"  They  're  going  to  dismiss,"  said  Martin,  and 
the  children  hastened  up  the  walk,  stepping  softly, 
so  as  not  to  attract  attention.  By  the  time  a  brisk 
drum-beat  sounded  the  signal  for  the  different 


WAYS  AND  MEANS.  9 

classes  to  fall  into  line,  they  had  gained  the  Princi 
pal's  private  office,  and,  closing  the  door,  sat  down 
to  await  his  coming. 

Mr.  Roberts  gave  a  start  as  he  saw  the  children, 
for  he  had  expected  to  find  the  room  vacant,  as  he 
had  left  it.  He  was  a  nervous  man,  as  one  may 
well  be  whose  occupation  is  a  constant  draught  upon 
all  the  nervous  forces. 

"  You  were  called  away  from  school  this  morn 
ing.  Nothing  wrong,  I  hope  ?  " 

Martin  fumbled  awkwardly  with  the  fastenings 
of  his  satchel.  Ned  stood  by  the  master's  desk, 
fingering  a  glass  paper-weight  which  he  had  often 
seen  there,  and  which  at  another  time  he  would 
never  have  presumed  to  touch.  Now  he  lifted  it  as 
recklessly  as  if  it  had  been  a  marble,  and,  holding  it 
between  his  eye  and  the  light,  carelessly  squinted 
through  it. 

It  was  an  uncouth  action,  but  it  expressed,  more 
forcibly  than  a  more  dramatic  gesture,  the  boy's 
inner  disturbance  and  indifference  to  trivial  things. 

"  Why,  Ned,  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  urged  the 
master,  noting  how  the  boy's  face  was  working. 
"  No  accident  has  happened  to  any  of  your  family, 
I  hope." 

"  There  was  no  family  but  our  father,"  said  the 
lad  in  a  choked  voice.  "  Now  he  is  "  — 

"Dead?  "  said  the  master,  in  a  shocked  voice. 

"Worse.  Paralyzed.  The  doctor  says  he  will 
never  get  over  it.  They  've  taken  him  to  the  hos 
pital —  to  stay." 


10  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"Why,  boys,  this  is  bad,"  said  Mr.  Eoberts. 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

It  was  noticeable  that  he  did  not  include  the  lit 
tle  girl,  who  was  standing  at  the  window,  looking 
down  upon  her  young  playmates  as  they  ran  blithe 
ly  through  the  yard,  on  their  way  home  to  luncheon. 
Nobody  knew  it  then,  but  Hope  was  at  that  mo 
ment  saying  good-by  to  her  childhood. 

"  That 's  just  the  trouble,"  explained  Ned,  gather 
ing  strength  as  he  spoke.  "  It  has  come  upon  us  so 
suddenly.  We  don't  know  what  to  do.  And  we 
hadn't  any  one  else  to  talk  with." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  small  means  "  — 

"  Almost  nothing,"  said  Ned  decisively,  while  a 
sudden  recollection  smote  him :  the  life  insurance 
policy,  which  his  father  had  pinched  himself  to 
keep  up,  and  which  he  had  once  confided  to  the  boy's 
care,  assuring  him  that  it  would  provide  amply  for 
them  all  in  case  of  his  death.  Was  he  thinking  of 
it  now,  the  lonely,  helpless  sufferer,  wishing,  per 
haps,  that  it  had  been  death  that  had  stricken  him 
down?  He  tried  to  put  the  thought  from  his 
mind. 

"  I  suppose  there  are  some  things  we  could  real 
ize  a  little  on,"  he  said  gravely  ;  "  but  nothing 
that  could  begin  to  support  us  or  to  start  us  out  in 
anyway.  We  shall  have  to  go  to  work,  Martin 
and  I." 

Mr.  Roberts's  face  brightened. 

"  That 's  the  kind  of  spirit  that  always  succeeds," 
he  said  heartily.  "I  think  we  can  manage  it. 


WAYS  AND  MEANS.  11 

Probably  we  can  hunt  tip  places  where  you  can 
go  to  school  and  work  your  board  out  of  school 
hours." 

"  But  we  don't  want  to  be  separated.  We 
promised  father  we  would  n't,"  objected  Ned. 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  see.  But  we  must  contrive  a  way 
for  you  to  keep  up  your  studies.  It  would  be  such 
a  pity  to  stop  now,"  said  the  teacher,  gnawing  his 
moustache  and  wrinkling  his  forehead,  in  a  way 
that  showed  very  plainly  he  did  not  at  all  see  the 
way  out  of  the  young  people's  dilemma. 

"  Mr.  Roberts,"  said  Hope,  coming  away  from 
the  window  and  standing  before  the  principal  with 
her  small  hands  clasped  before  her  and  her  shy 
eyes  upraised  to  his,  "  my  father  used  to  say  that 
the  most  valuable  part  of  education  was  what  one 
got  outside  of  school.  Suppose  we  never  went  to 
school  any  more,  but  read  and  studied  at  home, 
and  learned  what  we  could  from  those  about  us. 
Or  suppose  that  in  a  few  years  we  could  earn 
enough  to  take  the  boys  through  school.  Would 
they  be  hurt  by  waiting,  Mr.  Roberts  ?  " 

If  an  oracle  had  found  voice  and  spoken,  the 
schoolmaster  could  not  have  been  more  surprised. 
Hitherto  he  had  been  thinking  entirely  of  the  boys, 
fine,  promising  fellows  as  he  had  always  regarded 
them,  and  secretly  regretting  this  check  to  their 
careers.  He  had  even  thought,  with  pity  for  them, 
that  this  young  sister  would  be  a  heavy  burden. 
She  had  never  been  counted  among  his  brightest  pu 
pils.  If  he  could  have  seen  Hope  bending  at  night 


12  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

over  the  family  mending,  while  the  boys  were  deep 
in  their  studies,  he  might  have  understood  why  she 
always  seemed  a  little  dull  and  slow  at  her  books. 
But  he  had  taken  her  at  his  own  estimate,  and  lo  ! 
here  she  had  risen  up  before  him,  like  a  fearless 
little  woman,  and  was  challenging  his  views,  at 
tempting  to  reverse  his  judgment. 

"  What  do  you  suggest  ?  "  he  asked  calmly,  a 
quizzical  smile  playing  upon  his  face. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  the  girl,  flushing  at  his 
tone,  "  that  we  might  do  better  somewhere  in  the 
country.  It  would  cost  less  to  live  in  some  small 
town  than  here  in  the  city.  Perhaps  we  might  rent 
a  place  with  a  little  ground  that  we  could  plant. 
We  might  keep  chickens.  And  we  could  work  for 
other  people.  Of  course  we  couldn't  earn  the 
same  as  grown  men  and  women,  but  then  we  would 
not  need  so  much  to  eat." 

Mr.  Eoberts  listened  gravely  as  she  unfolded  her 
plan.  Then  he  stole  a  keen  glance  at  the  boys. 

"  And  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

He  looked  at  Ned  as  he  spoke.  Martin  was  glad 
it  was  not  he  who  had  to  answer,  for  he  had  a 
sneaking  fondness  for  school  and  the  playground, 
and  the  noise  and  whirl  of  the  city.  But  Ned  an 
swered  in  the  most  resolute  way,  — 

"  I  am  ready  for  anything  that  will  help  us  to 
keep  together  and  to  get  on  in  the  world,  sir. 
Father  always  said  that  little  Hope  had  more  sense 
than  both  of  us  boys  put  together." 

He  passed  his  arm  protectingly  about  his  sister 


WAYS  AND  MEANS.  13 

for  an  instant.  Mr.  Roberts  rose  and  took  two 
or  three  turns  around  the  room  in  silence.  The 
children  thought  nothing  strange  of  this  proceed 
ing,  for  they  knew  it  was  the  master's  way.  When 
he  stopped  before  them  again,  his  face  was  animated 
by  a  new  idea. 

"  Why  don't  you  take  up  some  land?  "  he  asked. 

"  Take  up  land  !  "  exclaimed  the  three  in  a 
breath. 

"  Yes,  enter  a  quarter  section  of  government 
land,  under  the  homestead  act." 

"  Why,  we  're  not  old  enough,"  cried  Ned. 

"  And  we  'd  have  to  go  away  off  from  every 
where  !  "  objected  Martin. 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Roberts,  father  has  to  stay  in 
the  hospital,  under  the  doctor's  care.  It  would  n't 
be  right  to  take  him  away,"  said  Hope  gently. 

"  If  I  'm  not  mistaken,  Ned,  in  view  of  your 
father's  hopeless  incapacity,  you  can  declare  your 
self  the  head  of  the  family,  and  file  upon  any  hun 
dred  and  sixty  acres  of  land  that  is  open  to  entry," 
said  the  master.  "  What  is  more,  I  am  very  sure 
that  across  the  bay  and  along  the  fruit  belt  of  the 
foothills,  there  is  some  excellent  land  still  open  to 
settlement.  How  would  you  like  to  try  it?  " 

Small  need  of  answer.  The  children's  faces 
were  radiant.  To  be  raised  in  a  moment  from  the 
depths  of  poverty  to  the  prospective  ownership  of  a 
hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  land  —  California  land, 
with  all  its  splendid  possibilities  and  latent  wealth 
—  was  something  so  magnificent  that  they  could 


14  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

scarcely  believe  in  its  reality.  The  schoolmaster 
saw  their  exultation  and  tried  to  check  it. 

"  It  means  hard  work,  plain  living,  and  self- 
denial —  years  of  it,"  he  said. 

"  What  do  we  care  ? "  exclaimed  Ned  with  en 
thusiasm.  "  It 's  worth  it.  I  'd  work  my  fingers 
to  the  bone  for  it." 

"  Only  think :  a  home  of  our  own !  "  said  Hope 
softly. 

"  But  where  are  we  to  get  the  ploughs  and  shov 
els  and  farming  things  we  shall  need  ? "  asked 
Martin. 

"  Don't  borrow  trouble,  my  boy,"  said  the  mas 
ter  pleasantly.  "Once  make  up  your  mind  to 
accomplish  any  wise  and  worthy  enterprise,  and 
you  will  generally  succeed.  Now  go  home,  take 
account  of  all  your  resources,  arid  report  to  me 
next  Saturday  morning.  Meanwhile,  I  will  make 
some  inquiries,  and  see  if  I  cannot  give  you  some 
practical  intelligence.  Hold  yourselves  ready  for 
action." 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   ABANDONED   CLAIM. 

IT  was  well  for  the  children  that  they  had  some 
thing  to  divide  their  thoughts  when  they  entered 
their  desolate  home.  The  house  was  a  neat  cot 
tage,  of  the  type  commonly  occupied  by  San  Fran 
cisco  mechanics.  There  was  a  pretty  little  garden 
in  front,  where  roses  and  fuchsias  and  flowering 
geraniums  grew  in  great  profusion.  A  narrow 
plank  walk  ran  around  to  the  side  of  the  house, 
where  there  was  a  small  porch,  draped  with  honey 
suckle  and  fragrant  with  its  blossoms.  They 
climbed  the  steps  leading  to  this  porch,  and  took 
the  door  key  from  beneath  the  mat,  where  they 
were  in  the  habit  of  secreting  it.  As  they  did  so, 
they  noticed  a  basket  containing  meat  and  vegeta 
bles,  their  father's  provision  for  the  evening  meal, 
and  this  simple  testimony  of  his  thoughtful  care 
brought  fresh  pain  to  their  hearts. 

It  surprised  them  a  little  to  find  everything  with 
in  unchanged.  There  were  his  slippers,  just  as  he 
had  drawn  them  off  that  morning,  and  his  morning 
paper,  neatly  folded,  lay  on  a  stand  at  one  side  of 
the  room.  Everything  was  in  perfect  order,  left  so 
by  the  deft  hands  of  Biddy  McGinnis,  who  came 


16  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

every  forenoon  to  wash  the  dishes  that  had  accumu 
lated  since  the  previous  morning,  and  to  tidy  up 
the  house.  They  could  not  afford  to  keep  a  regu 
lar  servant,  and  this  had  been  their  father's  way  of 
lightening  their  home  cares  since  their  mother's 
death. 

They  came  out  of  the  house,  and  sitting  down  on 
the  steps  of  the  little  porch,  took  out  the  luncheons 
they  had  carried  in  their  satchels,  and  tried  to  eat ; 
but  after  a  weak  pretense  they  gave  up  the  effort, 
and  the  two  younger  welcomed  Ned's  proposal  that 
they  should  follow  Mr.  Roberta's  advice  and  count 
up  their  resources. 

The  next  morning  Ned  stepped  around  to  Mr. 
Abraham's  store,  and  showed  him  the  list  of  things 
that  they  had  decided  they  could  spare,  and  asked 
him  to  come  over  and  look  at  them. 

Mr.  Abraham  was  the  Israelite  who  kept  the 
second-hand  store  around  the  corner,  on  Mission 
Street.  He  was  a  small  man,  with  bright  black 
eyes  and  shoulders  that  drooped  forward.  Mrs. 
Abraham  was  very  large  and  stout,  and  stooped  the 
other  way.  They  had  known  the  children  ever 
since  they  came  into  the  neighborhood,  and  always 
had  a  kind  word  for  them  as  they  passed  by. 

This  worthy  pair  listened  with  genuine  sympathy 
to  the  story  Ned  told.  They  had  children  of  their 
own,  and  knew  how  to  feel  for  other  people's  chil 
dren. 

"  Mein  Gott,  dat  iss  pad  !  "  said  Mr.  Abraham 
soberly. 


THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM.  17 

"  An'  vwhat  vill  you  pe  doing,  mein  poor  poys?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Abraham,  with  unctuous  kindness, 
while  tears  of  honest  sympathy  ran  down  her  cheeks. 
"  Iff  you  likes  to  ko  into  de  secont-hant  pizness, 
now,  mein  huspant  he  peen  talking  of  hiring  a 
poy ;  he  coot  not  gif  mooch  moneys,  pecause  de 
times  dey  iss  so  hart,  but  "  — 

"  Vilhelmine  !  Vilhelmine  !  "  interrupted  her  lit 
tle  husband  in  a  severe  voice.  "  Mens  moost  attent 
to  deir  own  pizness.  It  iss  not  proper  mit  voomans 
to  mettle.  You  go  ant  get  some  dose  gookies  vat 
you  peen  pakin'  dis  mornin',  ant  sent  ofer  to  de 
leetle  girl.  Now,  me,in  poy,"  turning  again  to  Ned, 
"vat  iss  it  you  peen  sayin',  eh?  You  got  some 
vernicher  to  sell  ?  " 

"  Here  is  a  list  of  the  things,"  said  Ned.  "  Or 
perhaps  you  would  rather  come  over  to  the  house, 
and  look  at  the  things  yourself  ?  " 

"  Dat  is  mooch  petter,"  agreed  Mr.  Abraham. 

Wilhelmine  came  in  at  that  moment  with  the 
cookies,  which  Ned  accepted  with  reluctance. 
Leaving  the  good  woman  to  mind  the  store  in  his 
absence,  her  better  if  not  greater  half  seized  his 
hat  and  walked  off  with  alacrity. 

Mr.  Abraham  had  a  tender  heart,  but  business 
was  business,  and  with  a  large  family  of  children 
of  his  own,  their  interests  must  be  attended  to  first. 
Ned  had  securely  reckoned  upon  receiving  at  least 
three  fourths  of  the  original  cost  of  the  goods  he 
offered  for  sale,  for  the  most  of  them  were  new, 
and  all  of  them  were  well  kept ;  but  his  heart  sank 


18  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

as  Mr.  Abraham  found  moth  holes  in  the  parlor 
furniture,  and  pointed  out  a  faded  place  in  the 
carpet,  and  discovered  scratches  on  the  rest  of  the 
furniture,  and  turned  the  chairs  upside  down  and 
the  wardrobe  inside  out,  and  pronounced  everything 
old-fashioned  that  was  n't  worn  out,  and  everything 
worn-out  that  was  n't  old-fashioned. 

Mr.  Abraham  made  a  list  of  his  own,  as  the  chil 
dren  pointed  out  the  things  to  him.  When  he  had 
finished,  his  list,  with  the  prices  he  was  willing  to 
give,  ran  as  follows  :  — 

Parlor  furniture $16.00 

Marble-topped  table 3.50 

Tapestry  carpeting 7.00 

Bedroom  carpeting 4.00 

Hatstand       6.50 

Little  table 1.00 

Wardrobe 4.00 

Parlor  curtains 2.00 

Dining  table 5.00 

Six  cane-seat  chairs 3.00 

Garden  hose 1.00 

Lounge 5.00 

Odds  and  ends 5.00 

Total $63.00 

"  Dat  iss  mooch  more  as  de  tings  is  vort,"  he 
said.  "  I  haf  hart  vork  to  get  mem  moneys  pack." 

"  But  the  things  cost  over  two  hundred  dollars. 
Most  of  them  are  as  good  as  new,  Mr.  Abraham," 
protested  Ned. 


THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM.  19 

"  All  right.  You  goes  to  some  odder  secont-hant 
man  ;  den  you  vill  see  how  mooch  he  gifs.  I  tell 
you  I  gifs  mooch  more  dan  anypotty  else,"  and  Mr. 
Abraham  made  a  gesture  as  if  he  designed  washing 
his  hands  of  the  whole  transaction. 

So  the  children  walked  back  and  forth  through 
the  house  again,  Mr.  Abraham  with  them,  singling 
out  now  this  article,  now  that,  to  add  to  the  list, 
and  when  they  had  finished  and  counted  out  all 
that  they  could  possibly  spare,  the  second-hand 
man's  estimate  ran  up  to  eighty-nine  dollars  and 
some  odd  cents,  and  he  only  awaited  their  orders  to 
come  and  take  the  goods  and  pay  the  money  for 
them. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  schoolmaster's  house 
on  Saturday,  they  found  him  seated  at  the  desk  in 
his  study,  with  an  open  letter  before  him. 

"Well?"  he  said,  as  the  boys  took  seats  beside 
him. 

"  We  acted  on  your  advice,  Mr.  Roberts,"  re 
plied  Ned.  "  We  made  a  list  of  all  the  things  we 
had  that  would  be  useful  on  a  ranch,  and  another 
list  of  all  that  we  could  spare.  By  selling  these 
we  can  raise  a  little  over  eighty-nine  dollars,  less 
what  it  costs  us  to  live  while  we  stay  here." 

The  schoolmaster  knit  his  brows. 

"  That  is  very  little,"  he  said.  "  What  have  you 
to  begin  on,  besides  that  ?  " 

Ned  pulled  a  memorandum  from  his  pocket. 
It  was  very  clear  and  concise.  Mr.  Roberts 
read :  — 


20  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"Working  clothing  enough  for  one  year. 
Cook  stove. 
Kitchen  table. 
Three  chairs. 
One  rocker. 
Two  beds  and  bedding. 
Plenty  of  dishes  and  table  linen. 
One  small  carpet. 
One  screen  safe  for  food. 

One  meal  chest,  nearly  full  of  white  flour,  oat 
meal  and  corn  meal,  and  graham  flour. 
Kitchen  utensils. 
One  bureau. 
One  sewing  machine. 
One  lounge. 
Garden  tools :  rake,  hoe,  and  spade. 

"  You  seem  to  have  made  a  very  wise  selection, 
boys,"  said  Mr.  Koberts.  "  But  speaking  of  garden 
tools  reminds  me  of  something  else.  Your  father 
was  a  cabinet-maker.  Didn't  he  have  a  set  of 
tools?" 

"  Of  course  he  did,"  replied  Martin  quickly. 
"And  the  nicest  ones  you  ever  saw  —  a  whole  kit 
—  everything  from  a  brad-awl  to  a  spirit-level!  " 

"  Yes,  he  had,"  averred  Ned.  "  And  they  had  n't 
been  used  long.  It  can't  be  more  than  a  year  since 
he  sold  his  old  tools  and  bought  new  ones." 

"  The  tools  would  come  handy  for  you,  no  doubt," 
said  Mr.  Roberts,  "but  it  would  be  several  years 
before  you  could  handle  them  to  advantage.  A 


THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM.  21 

good  set  of  tools  ought  to  be  worth  somewhere  from 
fifty  to  a  hundred  dollars,"  he  added  thoughtfully. 
"  Have  you  seen  anybody  from  the  factory  since  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Ned.  "  We  could  n't  expect 
it.  The  men  work  early  and  late.  They  never 
have  any  time  to  spare  until  Saturday  night." 

"  I  think  I  '11  take  time  by  the  forelock  and  go 
there  to-day,"  observed  the  master.  "  Now,  boys, 
I  have  a  letter  here  that  came  last  night.  It  is 
from  Dr.  John,  the  friend  I  spoke  of,  who  lives  in 
the  interior  of  Alameda  County.  You  shall  have  it, 
word  for  word,  as  he  wrote  it.  It  is  dated  at  his 
little  country  place." 

September  5,  188-. 

FRIEND  ROBERTS, — Your  letter  of  inquiry  re 
garding  government  land  open  to  settlement  in  this 
vicinity  reached  me  to-night,  and  I  hasten  to  reply. 

Within  a  radius  of  ten  miles  of  this  place,  a 
dozen  or  more  "  locations  "  could  probably  be  made. 
These  tracts  are  generally  at  a  considerable  eleva 
tion  along  the  Coast  Range,  and  are  alike  in  charac 
ter.  The  ground  is  rocky  and  hilly,  affording  fair 
pasturage  during  the  winter  months,  but  offering 
almost  insuperable  obstacles  to  cultivation.  Here 
and  there  a  fertile  spot  may  be  found,  consisting  of 
a  sheltered  saddle  or  bench,  a  few  acres  in  extent ; 
but  all  are  open  to  the  same  drawbacks :  inaccessi 
bility  and  distance  from  any  good  wagon  road,  and 
therefore  from  market. 

There  is,  however,  one  quarter  section  lying  close 
to  me,  upon  which  nobody  places  any  value,  but 


22  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

which  I  should  seriously  consider  if  I  were  about  to 
enter  land.  To  explain  its  situation  clearly,  I  must 
first  make  you  acquainted  with  The  Brook.  Why 
"  The  Brook,"  I  do  not  precisely  know,  but  I  be 
lieve  there  was  once  a  dispute  over  its  christening, 
and  as  the  people  could  not  agree  on  any  other 
name,  they  compromised  on  this  simple  title.  .  .  . 
This  mountain  stream  rises  at  the  summit  of  the 
Coast  Kange,  and  crosses  the  mountains  through  a 
picturesque  canon,  coursing  through  our  little  vil 
lage  on  its  way  to  the  Bay.  Ordinarily  it  is  a  de 
mure  and  well-behaved  traveler,  although  abound 
ing  in  deep  pools  and  dangerous  quicksands.  In 
the  winter  time  it  wears  a  different  aspect.  You 
must  know  that  it  has  for  its  watershed  a  vast  area 
of  mountain  country,  many  hundreds  of  miles  in 
extent.  .  .  .  When  the  winter's  rains  come  down 
bravely,  and  clouds  hover  for  days  along  the  sum 
mit  of  the  Range,  The  Brook  is  swelled  by  hun 
dreds  and  thousands  of  tiny  rivulets.  Little  by  lit 
tle  it  gathers  force  and  volume,  until  it  swells  into 
a  thing  of  terror,  which  sweeps  down  the  valley  with 
a  deafening  roar.  When  in  this  mood,  nothing  can 
stay  it.  It  seizes  upon  giant  trees,  uprooting  them 
like  grasses  and  tossing  them  like  babes  on  its 
bosom.  It  makes  sallies  to  right  and  to  left, 
snatching  at  fences  and  outbuildings  that  unwary 
farmers  place  too  near  its  course,  channeling  in 
scriptions  in  the  solid  rock.  Long  ago  people 
learned  to  give  it  a  wide  berth.  Nobody  would 
dare  to  build  up  the  canon,  if,  indeed,  they  could 


THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM.  23 

conveniently  get  there.  At  certain  points  further 
down  the  valley,  the  people  found  they  had  the 
advantage  of  the  stream  and  determined  to  keep 
it,  and  so  constructed  costly  iron  bridges,  which 
serve  to  connect  sections  of  the  valley  in  winter 
time,  but  which  there  is  no  traffic  or  population  to 
justify  up  our  way.  Now  to  describe  the  land  of 
which  I  speak :  My  own  place  borders  upon  The 
Brook  at  a  point  where  the  bed  is  full  of  quick 
sands.  Just  opposite  lies  this  quarter  section,  a 
very  pretty  stretch  of  land,  comprising  a  small  cres 
cent  of  level  and  gently  sloping  ground,  bounded  by 
the  stream  in  front  and  the  mountains  on  either 
hand,  while  the  remainder  extends  up  the  steep  hill 
side  and  embraces  a  thickly  wooded  gorge.  Near 
as  the  place  seems,  it  can  only  be  reached  by  a 
steep  trail  leading  back  over  the  mountains,  and 
connecting  with  a  rough  country  road  at  a  point 
some  fifteen  miles  distant  from  the  nearest  railroad 
station.  .  .  .  The  land  was  entered,  some  ten  years 
ago,  by  a  thriftless  sort  of  fellow,  who  put  up  some 
rough  buildings,  and  then  gave  up  in  disgust  and 
abandoned  the  claim.  His  failure  discouraged  any 
one  else  from  trying  it.  ...  In  my  judgment,  the 
lower  level  is  of  rich  alluvial  soil,  and  could  be 
made  very  productive  with  careful  cultivation.  .  .  . 
I  don't  know  what  buildings  there  are  over  there ; 
probably  there  is  something  that  could  be  made 
habitable  in  this  accommodating  climate.  The  lit 
tle  gorge  ought  to  afford  plenty  of  firewood.  Tak 
ing  it  all  in  all,  the  place  might  be  made  fairly 


24  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

profitable,  and  the  situation  is  beautiful  to  anybody 
capable  of  appreciating  such  things. 

The  drawbacks  are  most  definite  and  uncompro 
mising.  The  place  is  extremely  difficult  to  reach, 
and  once  there,  there  would  be  little  opportunity  to 
get  out.  If  your  young  people  should  go  there, 
they  must  count  upon  leading  a  lonely  and  se 
cluded  life.  They  will  be  in  a  state  of  siege  for 
months  every  winter,  when  the  trail  will  be  impas 
sable. 

Don't  ask  me  whether  I  advise  it.  Everything 
depends  on  what  kind  of  stuff  they  are  made  of. 
You  say  there  is  a  girl ;  so  much  the  worse  for  her 
and  the  better  for  them. 

Yours  truly,  DR.  JOHN. 

I  inclose  memoranda  of  the  location,  in  case  you 
should  like  to  use  it.  If  the  children  decide  to 
come,  consign  them  to  me,  and  I  will  find  some 
way  of  getting  them  and  their  belongings  there. 

"  '  Dr.  John  ! '  What  a  singular  letter  and  what 
an  odd  name,"  remarked  Martin. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  schoolmaster  absently.  "  I  have 
always  fancied  that  he  was  a  man  with  a  history." 

Martin  looked  curious,  and  would  have  followed 
his  remarks  with  a  question,  but  Ned,  who  had 
been  lost  in  deep  thought,  forestalled  him :  — 

"  I  will  take  the  land,"  he  said. 

The  schoolmaster  looked  both  surprised  and 
pleased  at  this  decisive  speech.  Martin  was  dis- 


THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM.  25 

posed  to  feel  somewhat  aggrieved.  He  had  ex 
pected  to  be  consulted  and  to  have  a  voice  in  the 
matter ;  but  he  hastened  to  sustain  his  dignity  by 
giving  his  own  vote. 

"  All  right,  Ned.     I  'm  with  you." 

"I  like  that,"  said  Mr.  Roberts  cordially,  ad 
dressing  Ned.  "  And  now  I  am  going  to  make  an 
other  suggestion.  As  a  rule,  you  know  my  maxim 
is  to  '  Make  haste  slowly ; '  but  in  this  case  every 
minute  you  wait  is  so  much  precious  time  lost.  It 
is  now  nearly  ten.  What  do  you  say  to  meeting 
me  at  the  United  States  Land  Office  at  eleven  ?  " 

"  That  will  suit  me,  Mr.  Eoberts,"  replied  Ned. 

"Another  thing,"  said  the  schoolmaster  as  he 
rose,  eyeing  the  boys  nervously.  "  I  am  going  to 
bequeath  to  you  a  serious  and  important  charge.  I 
arn  going  to  give  you  my  heifer  calf." 

That  heifer  calf !  The  boys  forgot  their  dignity 
and  burst  into  hearty  laughter.  The  pretty  little 
Jersey,  the  gift  of  a  devoted  pupil,  had  been  the 
master's  plague  and  Nemesis  for  months  past.  It 
had  drawn  him  into  more  scrapes  than  Mary's  lit 
tle  lamb  had  beguiled  its  mistress.  It  was  forever 
escaping  from  his  own  adjoining  yard  into  the 
school  grounds,  frightening  timid  children,  and 
driving  bold  ones  wild  with  delight.  It  had 
lunched  one  day  on  the  experimental  garden 
planted  by  the  botany  class.  It  had  browsed  on 
school  satchels  and  hats  and  coats  in  the  entry. 
It  had  once  been  imprisoned  in  the  principal's 
room  by  some  mischievous  urchins,  and,  escaping, 


26  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

wandered  into  a  class-room  and  greeted  some  visit 
ing  directors  with  a  loud  "  Baa-aa-aa !  "  and  then 
had  shamelessly  proclaimed  its  ownership  by  stick 
ing  its  nose  into  its  master's  pocket  to  find  some 
hidden  sweets.  It  had  brought  him  into  disgrace 
with  the  Board,  and  narrowly  escaped  becoming  the 
subject  of  litigation  in  the  courts.  It  had  even 
now  helped  him  into  one  more  scrape,  for  there 
in  the  open  doorway  stood  the  donor  of  the  calf, 
a  handsome,  curly-headed  boy,  his  face  red  with 
vexation. 

"  If  you  don't  want  Beauty,  Mr.  Roberts,  I  '11  find 
somebody  who  does.  I  think  you  might  have  had 
the  politeness  to  tell  me  so,  instead  of  joking  about 
it  with  the  other  boys.  As  for  you,  Ned,  and  you, 
Martin,  you  dare  to  lay  one  finger  to  that  calf,  and 
I'll"  — 

"Thomas  Bateman,  be  silent.  Go  and  sit  in 
that  chair.  I  will  talk  with  you  later,"  commanded 
Mr.  Roberts,  in  the  tone  of  authority  that  no  one 
ever  dared  disobey.  "  Now,  boys,  you  may  go ;  but 
don't  fail  to  meet  me  at  the  Land  Office  at  eleven, 
sharp." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   HEAD   OF   A   FAMILY. 

AFTER  a  short  talk  with  his  refractory  visitor, 
Mr.  Eoberts  betook  himself  to  the  large  furniture 
factory  in  the  lower  portion  of  the  city.  He  was 
referred  to  the  tall  foreman,  who  proved  to  be  a 
working  partner  of  the  firm. 

"  Oh,  yes,  those  poor  little  shavers  of  Austin's !  " 
he  said,  folding  his  arms  and  looking  troubled. 
"  It 's  a  hard  case.  The  men  are  going  to  do  some 
thing  for  them  to-night.  Saturday 's  pay-day,  you 
know." 

"You  can't  reach  them  in  that  way,"  said  the 
schoolmaster  with  decision. 

"  Eh  ?  "  said  the  foreman,  looking  puzzled. 

"  The  boys  are  young,  but  they  have  character," 
insisted  Mr.  Eoberts.  "  They  don't  want  charity. 
They  mean  to  take  care  of  themselves." 

"  But  we  can't  see  a  man  drop  right  down  among 
us,  and  not  raise  a  finger  to  help  his  family,  —  and 
a  pack  of  poor  little  youngsters  at  that." 

"  Then  help  them  in  a  different  way.  Mr.  Aus 
tin  has  a  chest  of  tools  here,  has  he  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  in  the  best  of  order.  A  good  work 
man  always  takes  good  care  of  his  tools." 


28  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Can't  you  sell  them  at  a  good  price  ?  The  boys 
need  money.  You  could  help  them  in  that  way, 
without  hurting  their  self-respect." 

The  foreman  excused  himself  for  a  moment,  and 
consulted  with  others  of  the  firm.  When  he  came 
back  he  brought  a  check  for  a  hundred  dollars. 

"Shall  we  make  this  payable  to  you,  Mr. 
Roberts?" 

"  Make  it  payable  to  Ned  —  Edward  Austin.  He 
is  the  head  of  the  family  now,  and  we  must  look 
upon  him  as  a  man  henceforth." 

Ned  did  not  look  at  all  like  a  man  or  the  head 
of  a  family,  but  like  a  very  slight,  careworn  boy, 
when  the  young  people  joined  their  friend,  on  the 
steps  of  the  Treasury  Building. 

In  the  Land  Office,  at  the  counter  where  entries 
were  made,  the  clerk  was  busily  talking  with  a  lady, 
and*  excused  himself  to  Mr.  Roberts  with  an  apolo 
getic  word.  Martin  possessed  himself  of  a  pamphlet 
lying  on  the  counter,  while  Ned  got  his  data  ready, 
and  anxiously  awaited  his  turn. 

The  lady  who  was  talking  with  the  clerk  appeared 
to  be  an  old  acquaintance.  She  was  a  pretty  woman, 
and  stylishly  dressed. 

"  Now  do  advise  me  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  coax 
ing  tone.  "  "Would  you  preempt  it  or  homestead 
it  ?  Which  is  the  least  trouble  ?  " 

"  If  you  preempt  it,  it  will  cost  you  a  dollar  and 
a  quarter  an  acre,  and  you  '11  have  to  live  on  it  for 
six  months.  If  you  homestead  it,  the  fees  and 
commissions  only  amount  to  twenty-two  dollars : 


THE  HEAD  OF  A  FAMILY.  29 

sixteen  when  you  enter  it,  and  six  more  on  final 
proof.  But  you  '11  have  to  live  on  it  for  five 
years." 

"  Five  years  ?  You  don't  mean  it !  "  cried  the 
lady,  with  a  little  scream  of  horror.  "  Would  n't 
once  a  week  or  twice  a  month  do  ?  " 

"  You  might  make  it  4  do,'  "  said  the  clerk,  with 
a  meaning  smile.  "  But  you  'd  have  to  run  risks. 
Somebody  might  be  watching." 

"Five  years!  Oh,  that  would  never  do,"  said 
the  lady  impatiently.  "What  does  government 
suppose  I  want  to  take  up  its  old  land  for?  I 
want  the  money  for  it." 

"So  do  most  people,"  said  the  clerk,  with  an 
other  expressive  smile. 

"Now  preempting  sounds  more  sensible,"  con 
tinued  the  lady ;  "  though  how  in  the  world  I  'm 
going  to  bury  myself  there  for  six  months  I  don't 
see.  Say,  don't  you  suppose  if  I  dress  up  a  dummy 
and  set  it  at  the  window,  I  can  come  down  to  the 
city  in  disguise  every  week  or  so,  to  go  to  the 
theatre  and  do  a  little  shopping?" 

"  Woman's  wit  will  probably  circumvent  all  ob 
stacles,"  replied  the  clerk. 

"  And  then,  at  the  end  of  six  months,  I  'd  have 
to  pay  —  let  me  see  :  a  hundred  and  sixty  times 
one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents.  Oh,  dear,  I  've 
such  a  poor  head  for  figures.  How  much  would 
that  be?" 

"  Two  hundred  dollars." 

"  I  'd  have  to  pay  two  hundred  dollars.     And  I 


30  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

can  get  thirty  dollars  an  acre  for  the  land  as  soon 
as  I  get  the  title.  And  thirty  times  one  hundred 
and  sixty  —  why,  it  's  forty-eight  hundred.  And 
take  away  the  two  hundred  dollars,  leaves  forty-six 
hundred  dollars.  That 's  not  a  bad  speculation 
after  all !  "  And  she  laughed  triumphantly. 

".Let  me  see  your  forms,  or  whatever  you  call 
them.  Oh,  if  you  please  !  "  extending  her  hand  for 
Martin's  open  book,  on  whose  page  she  caught  sight 
of  the  clause  she  wished  to  see. 

44  But  see  what  it  says  here,"  cried  Martin,  point 
ing  to  the  affidavit.  "  '  /  do  solemnly  swear  .  .  . 
nor  have  I  settled  upon  and  improved  said  land 
to  sell  the  same  on  speculation,  but  in  good 
faith;9"  — 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  "  exclaimed  the  lady  hastily. 

"  But  don't  you  have  to  take  your  solemn  oath 
you  have  n't  ?  "  questioned  the  boy. 

"  What  a  little  goose !  "  laughed  the  lady,  re 
covering  herself.  "  Why,  everybody  does  so.  Peo 
ple  are  doing  it  every  day.  Thousands  and  thou 
sands  of  acres  are  entered  that  way  every  year,  and 
every  one  knows  it." 

"  And  is  n't  swearing  to  something  that  is  n't 
true,  perjury  ?  "  insisted  Martin  stoutly. 

"  That 's  enough,  young  man,"  hastily  interposed 
the  clerk.  "  It 's  all  a  matter  of  form.  Everybody 
understands  it." 

Meanwhile,  somebody  had  been  looking  up  the 
boys'  claim,  and  found  it  open  to  entry. 

"  Of  course  your  residence  is  already  on  the  land  ? 


THE  HEAD  OF  A  FAMILY.  31 

You  know  that  is  necessary  in  entering  a  homestead 
claim  ?  "  said  the  man,  addressing  Mr.  Koberts. 

"No,  sir,  I  was  not  aware  of  that.  This  is  a 
new  complication,  Ned.  You  '11  have  to  move  up 
there  first,  and  then  come  down  to  the  city  and 
make  the  entry.  This  is  the  young  man  who  ex 
pects  to  enter  the  land,"  explained  Mr.  Roberts. 

The  entry  clerk  caught  the  words,  and  looked  at 
the  boys  with  surprise  tinctured  with  disfavor,  for 
Martin's  blunt  speeches  had  not  aroused  the  good 
will  of  the  office. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are  twenty-one 
years  old,  young  man  ?  "  he  demanded,  eying  Ned 
with  suspicion. 

"  No,  sir  ;  but  I  am  the  head  of  the  family." 

"  Father  and  mother  both  dead,  eh  ?  " 

"  The  mother  is  dead,"  interposed  Mr.  Roberts 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  And  the  father  ?  " 

"  Here  is  the  physician's  certificate,  showing  that 
he  is  hopelessly  incapacitated." 

44 1  can't  think  of  permitting  such  a  thing,"  said 
the  clerk  harshly.  "  Never  had  such  a  case  before 
to  my  knowledge.  The  Department  would  never 
allow  it." 

44  Well,  boys,  we  shall  have  to  give  it  up,"  said 
the  schoolmaster  sadly. 

Ned  came  forward,  his  face  pale,  but  his  eyes 
resolute,  making  one  last,  brave  stand. 

44 1  want  to  see  the  Land  Registrar  himself,"  he 
demanded. 


32  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

The  clerk  held  a  hurried  consultation  with  his 
superior.  The  latter  finally  came  forward,  his  fine 
face  lighted  with  interest. 

"  You  want  to  take  up  land,  eh  ?  Turn  rancher  ? 
What  for?" 

"To  make  a  home  and  earn  a  living  for  my 
brother  and  sister  and  myself,"  replied  Ned 
promptly. 

"Not  afraid  of  hard  work?  Don't  mind  leav 
ing  the  city?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Well,  I  have  two  boys  at  home,  and  I  wish 
they  had  half  your  pluck,"  said  the  gentleman. 
"  Now  as  to  this  application  of  yours.  It 's  irregu 
lar,  I  must  own.  But  I  can't  see  why  it  should  n't 
hold.  If  a  man  runs  away  and  deserts  his  family, 
his  widow,  and  presumably  his  minor  child,  in  the 
case  of  her  death,  may  declare  themselves  heads  of 
the  family,  and  enter  land  accordingly.  When 
an  honest  man  is  stricken  down  by  disease,  I  can't 
see  why  members  of  his  family  should  n't  be  enti 
tled  to  the  same  privilege.  It  may  arouse  some 
discussion  in  Washington,  but  if  you  can  afford  to 
take  the  risk,  I  think  we  can  and  will.  You  go 
up  and  settle  on  the  land,  and  then  enter  it  in  the 
office  of  the  county  clerk  of  Alameda  County.  If 
he  makes  any  objection,  refer  him  to  me." 


CHAPTEE  V. 

TOM'S   APOLOGY. 

THERE  was  nothing  left  for  the  children  to  do 
but  to  prepare  their  simple  possessions  for  ship 
ment.  Nearly  all  of  their  little  circle  of  friends 
testified  their  sympathy  and  good  will  in  some  prac 
tical  manner.  Biddy  McGinnis  brought  a  coop 
containing  a  hen  and  a  brood  of  chickens.  The 
grocery  man  at  the  corner  pressed  upon  them  some 
packages  of  garden  seeds.  Even  Mr.  Abraham, 
impelled  in  part,  no  doubt,  by  his  wife,  brought  to 
each  of  the  boys  a  stout  suit  of  overalls  and  jumper 
for  farm  work,  when  he  came  to  take  away  the 
furniture  they  had  sold  him.  Their  landlord  re 
turned  to  them  half  of  the  month's  rent,  which  had 
been  paid  in  advance.  A  thriftless  mechanic,  one 
of  their  father's  fellow-workmen,  came  up  one  day, 
leading  a  half-starved,  broken-down  old  horse,  and 
explained  that  he  wanted  them  to  accept  the  ani 
mal  in  settlement  of  a  debt  of  twenty  dollars  that 
he  owed  their  father. 

"  If  you  can  make  any  use  of  this  old  mare,"  he 
said,  "  you  're  welcome  to  her.  She  's  old  and 
banged  up,  and  she  looks  bad  because  she  's  been 
straw-fed  ;  but  she's  sound,  and  gentle  as  a  kitten." 


34  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

The  boys  accepted  the  bony  old  mare,  although 
they  were  almost  ashamed  to  drive  her  down  to  the 
ferry ;  but  they  reasoned  that  after  all  she  was  a 
horse,  capable  of  work,  and  they  secretly  hoped 
good  pasturage  might  improve  her. 

A  few  evenings  before  they  left,  they  had  a  sur 
prise.  They  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  a  noisy 
altercation  at  the  gate,  then  a  stampede  up  the 
walk. 

Two  voices,  a  boy's  and  a  man's,  were  heard  out 
side  ;  then  there  was  a  clatter  as  if  a  squad  of  in 
fantry  had  raced  upon  the  little  porch.  There 
were  gruff  murmurs  and  smothered  laughter. 

The  boys,  thoroughly  alarmed,  sprang  to  the 
door  and  flung  it  open. 

On  the  porch  a  man  and  a  boy  were  wrestling 
with  something  very  strong  and  very  active,  and 
very  wild  and  unmanageable  ;  something  that  was 
spotted,  dun-color  and  white,  and  had  eyes  like  a 
fawn,  and  long  silken  ears  that  pricked  up  as  the 
door  opened,  in  a  very  knowing  fashion. 

"  That  '11  do,  Jim,"  said  the  boy,  in  the  tone  of 
one  accustomed  to  giving  orders.  "  I  've  got  her 
now.  You  can  go." 

The  man  lifted  his  hat  to  the  children,  and  dis 
appeared  into  the  darkness. 

"  Baa-aa-aa !  " 

Surely  they  knew  the  familiar  call. 

"  Beauty?  "  said  Ned,  amazed. 

"  That 's  what 's  the  matter,"  replied  Tom  Bate- 
man,  for  it  was  he,  avoiding  Ned's  eye  as  he  se- 


TOM'S  APOLOGY.  35 

cured  the  rope  to  one  of  the  posts.  "  Afraid  you 
might  forget  her  —  knew  you  were  awful  busy. 
Thought  I  'd  bring  her  along  myself." 

But  Ned  was  a  boy,  too,  and  he  still  smarted 
under  a  sense  of  indignity  at  the  savage  threats 
young  Bateman  had  made  at  the  schoolmaster's 
house  the  previous  week.  Such  an  offense  was  not 
to  be  condoned  in  a  moment. 

"  I  don't  want  your  calf,"  he  said  bluntly. 
"  Keep  her  yourself." 

*  Just  then  Hope  appeared  at  the  door,  drawing 
back  shyly  as  she  recognized  the  visitor. 

"  Good-evening,  Hope,"  said  Tom,  smiling. 

Hope  accepted  this  greeting  with  a  little  nod, 
and  stepped  out  to  caress  Beauty,  who  gave  a 
friendly  bleat  at  sight  of  her. 

Something  had  happened  the  Saturday  before  ; 
something  that  Hope  had  not  told  the  boys. 

After  they  had  left  the  house,  she  had  gone  out 
on  the  back  steps  to  have  the  "  good  cry  "  that  she 
had  been  promising  herself,  the  only  relief  that 
her  overcharged  heart  could  find.  She  had  been 
holding  back  all  the  week,  and  the  tears  rained 
down  thick  and  fast,  while  her  slight  form  shook 
with  the  sobs  she  could  no  longer  control.  Sitting, 
or  rather  lying  there,  with  her  head  pillowed  on  her 
arms,  she  was  unconscious  of  everything  about 
her. 

A  moment  later  Tom  Bateman  came  along  the 
walk  at  the  side  of  the  house,  and  opened  the  gate 
in  the  tall  lattice-work  that  separated  the  front  yard 


36  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

from  the  back.  He  thrust  his  head  through  the 
opening,  and  called  out,  in  a  cautious  voice,  as  if 
not  sure  what  sort  of  reception  he  might  meet : 

"  Boys  !  " 

Hope  raised  her  head  and  recognized  him,  and 
tried  to  recover  her  self-command,  but  could  not. 
Dropping  her  face  again  upon  her  arms,  she  sobbed 
as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

"  Why,  Hope  !  "  said  Tom. 

He  was  a  big  boy,  in  class  A,  of  the  first  Gram 
mar  grade,  and  she  was  a  little  girl,  grades  and 
grades  below  him ;  but  from  the  time  he  had  first 
seen  her  she  had  reminded  him  of  a  little  sister  he 
had  lost,  and  whom,  for  love's  sake  and  the  pain 
the  memory  cost  him,  he  had  tried  hard  to  forget. 

But  now  he  sat  down  on  the  step  beside  her,  and 
drew  the  little  girl  into  his  arms,  and  made  a  clumsy 
effort  to  quiet  and  console  her. 

"  Don't  cry,"  he  said.  "  It 's  a  terrible  thing,  I 
know.  Mr.  Roberts  has  been  telling  me  about  it. 
But  you  can't  help  matters  by  crying.  You  '11  just 
take  away  the  boys'  pluck." 

"  But  —  the  boys  —  are  n't  —  here !  "  sobbed  the 
child. 

"  But  I  am,  and  I  can't  stand  it.  Do  stop, 
Hope  !  You  '11  kill  yourself,  crying  so.  Would 
that  make  it  easier  for  them  or  your  father  ?  " 

He  had  succeeded  in  quieting  her  at  last,  and  he 
dried  her  eyes  with  a  handkerchief  not  very  im 
maculate,  and  before  he  left  wrung  from  her  a  re 
luctant  promise  that  she  would  not  cry  any  more. 


TOWS  APOLOGY.  37 

"When  you  feel  like  it,  just  tear  round  the 
house  and  bang  things  about,  and  make  other  peo 
ple  feel  bad.  That 's  the  way  I  do." 

Hope  laughed. 

"  But  don't  tell  the  boys,"  she  implored  him. 

The  consciousness  of  this  innocent  secret  embar 
rassed  them  both  at  this  next  meeting  ;  but  it  made 
Tom  all  the  more  determined  to  establish  pleasant 
relations  with  the  brothers  of  the  little  girl  who 
had  sobbed  out  her  sorrows  in  his  arms. 

"  Don't  be  spunky,  Ned,"  urged  Tom  in  a  low 
voice.  "  I  did  n't  know  —  I  had  n't  heard  any 
thing  about  —  why  you  left  school,  you  know.  Be 
sides,  Beauty  really  is  a  terrible  nuisance.  She  's 
getting  dangerous.  Pier  horns  are  growing.  You 
don't  want  her  to  go  to  the  slaughter  house.  The 
4  governor '  declares  he  '11  send  her  there  if  he  finds 
her  round  another  day." 

Ned  could  but  own  that  he  would  not  like  to 
have  the  pretty  creature  meet  such  a  tragical  fate. 

There  was  a  tone  of  filial  indifference  in  Tom's 
reference  to  his  father  that  neither  of  the  other 
children  could  understand,  having  been  reared 
under  widely  different  conditions.  Tom  Bateman 
was  the  type  of  many  a  San  Francisco  boy,  whose 
father  was  given  over  to  business  speculations  and 
his  mother  to  society.  It  sometimes  occurred  to 
Tom  that  he  was  not  very  well  acquainted  with 
his  parents.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  no  thought 
of  this  came  to  either  of  the  boys  as  they  stood 
on  the  steps  of  the  narrow  portico,  the  one  eager, 


38  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

apologetic,  determined ;  the  other  reluctant  and 
wavering. 

"  There 's  no  question  but  that  Beauty  would 
ruin  Mr.  Roberts  if  he  kept  her  three  months 
longer.  The  directors  have  got  their  eye  on  her, 
and  either  she  '11  have  to  go,  or  he  '11  be  fired.  If 
she  could  only  get  out  in  the  country  and  be  put  on 
grass  or  alfalfa,  there  'd  be  some  reason  in  it.  But 
when  it  comes  to  keeping  her  on  schoolbooks  and 
hats,  and  satchels,  and  choice  roses,  and  orchids  — 
she  cleaned  out  all  the  orchids  in  our  conservatory 
yesterday  (you  see  Mr.  Eoberts  made  me  take  her 
home,"  he  confessed,  in  an  embarrassed  aside), — 
"  she  's  —  she  's  ruination.  Hold  on  !  She  's  got 
your  handkerchief  now." 

So  she  had,  and  was  calmly  chewing  it,  with  the 
anticipation  of  a  new  and  delicate  cud  by  and  by. 
The  shout  that  went  up  at  this  discovery  restored 
good  feeling  between  the  boys,  and  emboldened 
Tom  to  discharge  another  errand,  no  act  of  atone 
ment  in  this  instance,  but  a  pure,  unselfish  impulse 
to  give  a  lift  to  the  boy  friends  whose  way  must 
henceforth  be  an  uphill  climb. 

"  Look  here,  boys,"  he  cried,  kneeling  down  and 
fitting  a  key  to  the  lock  of  the  large,  solid-looking 
box  the  man  had  put  down  on  the  porch,  "  can't 
you  make  some  use  of  these  things  out  on  your 
ranch?" 

He  threw  up  the  lid  as  he  spoke,  disclosing  what 
had  been  a  well-appointed  chest  of  boy's  tools,  of 
excellent  manufacture,  but  in  sad  disorder. 


TOM'S  APOLOGY.  39 

"Oh,  Tom!  We  couldn't  think  of  such  a 
thing.  You'll  want  them  yourself,"  exclaimed 
both  boys  in  a  breath. 

"  No,  I  don't.  Have  n't  got  the  least  mechanical 
genius  in  the  world.  Can't  drive  a  nail  without 
hitting  my  fingers.  You  '11  find  them  in  an  awful 
mess,  though.  I  broke  the  bull-nose  plane  the  day 
I  got  them,  trying  to  scrape  a  nail  out  of  my  boot. 
And  last  week  I  turned  a  screw  on  my  bicycle  with 
the  chisel,  and  nicked  a  piece  out  of  it.  Now,  boys, 
I  must  be  going.  Success  to  you  on  the  ranch ! 
Good-by,  Hope.  I  'm  coining  up  to  see  you  all 
some  day." 

He  was  off  before  they  could  say  a  word  of 
thanks. 

Before  they  left,  Ned  took  a  very  practical  and 
sensible  step.  He  went  to  a  locksmith  close  by,  a 
curious  old  man  who  had  the  reputation  of  being  a 
veritable  jack-at-all-trades,  and  served  a  brief  ap 
prenticeship  in  various  simple  crafts  with  which  he 
foresaw  that  it  might  be  valuable  to  be  acquainted. 
He  learned  how  to  set  a  pane  of  glass,  to  sharpen 
tools,  to  file  and  set  a  saw,  to  hang  a  door,  and  to 
do  innumerable  other  things  that  to  procure  done 
is  the  torment  of  the  average  farmer. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   MAN   WITH   A   HISTORY. 

THEY  said  good-by  to  their  little  home,  to  their 
few  friends,  to  the  very  streets  their  young  feet  had 
trod  since  infancy.  They  paid  one  last  sorrowful 
visit  to  the  hospital,  and  stood  by  their  father's 
bedside,  endeavoring  to  make  him  understand  their 
project,  turning  away  with  full  hearts  as  they 
thought  they  saw  an  expression  of  approval  in  the 
patient  eyes.  Now  they  were  on  the  cable  cars, 
gliding  down  Market  Street  to  the  ferry,  so  ab 
sorbed  in  their  own  thoughts  that  they  did  not  see 
the  tangle  of  vehicles  that  thronged  the  streets,  all 
converging  to  a  focus  at  the  water  front.  And 
now  they  were  on  the  boat,  three  small  units  in  a 
vast,  bustling,  cosmopolitan  crowd,  each  factor  in 
tent  upon  its  own  interests  and  purposes.  And 
now  they  were  on  the  train,  speeding  to  a  new  home 
and  a  new  life. 

Their  goods,  along  with  Beauty  and  the  coop  of 
chickens,  had  been  shipped  the  day  before,  con 
signed  to  Dr.  John.  It  was  very  natural,  as  the 
train  passed  Oakland  and  Fruit  Yale,  and  began 
to  move  through  the  open  country,  that  each  of  tha 
young  travelers  should  be  thinking  of  this  same 


THE  MAN    WITH  A  HISTORY.  41 

Dr.  John,  each  in  a  different  manner  and  from  a 
different  point  of  view.  They  burst  into  speech 
almost  at  the  same  time. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  like  him,"  said  Ned. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  will  like  us,"  said  Hope. 

"  If  he  '11  only  tell  us  stories  of  his  adventures !  " 
cried  Martin. 

Ned  and  Hope  smiled  at  this  outburst.  Ever 
since  Mr.  Roberts  had  dropped  the  remark  that 
Dr.  John  was  a  man  with  a  history,  Martin  had 
been  feeding  his  boyish  imagination  with  every  sort 
of  wild  conception  wherein  the  doctor  figured  as 
the  hero. 

But  Oakland  was  ten  miles  behind  them,  and 
they  were  coming  to  a  place  where  a  spur  of  the 
.foothills  descended,  in  gentle  undulations,  to  the 
level  of  the  valley.  The  hills  loomed  higher  and 
approached  ever  nearer,  until  they  took  on  the  dig 
nity  of  young  mountains.  Little  farmhouses  were 
seen  along  their  base  and  halfway  up  their  slopes, 
and  now  and  then  an  ambitious  building,  with  elab 
orate  grounds,  where  semitropical  shrubs  and  fruits 
flourished. 

The  train  slackened  speed,  and  came  to  a  stand 
still,  and  the  conductor  shouted  a  name  that  caused 
the  boys  to  grasp  their  valise  and  bundles,  and 
Hope  to  hug  closer  the  flower-pot  in  which  she  had 
planted  slips  from  their  small  city  garden. 

The  brothers  ran  lightly  down  the  steps,  Ned 
turning  to  help  Hope  down,  while  Martin  looked 
eagerly  around. 


42  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

They  found  themselves  on  a  broad  platform  sur 
rounding  a  neat  station  house.  The  depot  was  a 
long  red  building,  and  at  the  further  end  was  a  gar 
den,  through  gaps  in  whose  high  hedge  glimpses 
could  be  had  of  rosebushes  and  of  orange-trees 
laden  with  half -matured  fruit.  There  were  many 
people  on  the  platform,  and  Martin  scanned  them 
critically  to  find  among  them  some  impressive  fig 
ure,  the  man  for  whom  he  was  looking  :  "  the  man 
with  a  history." 

It  was  hard  to  decide  upon  him.  There  were 
porters  and  train  hands,  trundling  heavy  trucks 
and  shouting  hoarse  orders.  There  were  brisk-look 
ing  travelers  coming  and  going.  There  was  a 
young  man  taking  leave  of  his  young  wife,  and  an 
old  gentleman  welcoming  home  his  old  wife.  At 
one  side  of  the  platform  a  ranchman,  wearing  a  gray 
felt  hat,  who  had  just  stepped  out  of  a  light  wagon, 
was  trying  to  calm  his  horse,  a  noble  bay  with  a 
long,  arched  neck  and  a  beautiful  eye,  who  shivered 
with  terror  at  every  puff  of  the  engine,  and  seemed 
possessed  with  an  uncontrollable  desire  to  leap  for 
ward  upon  the  platform  and  dash  herself  against 
her  iron  rival. 

The  children  forgot  all  about  the  doctor,  as  they 
watched  the  calm,  sympathetic  control  that  the 
farmer  exercised  over  the  horse.  Every  time  the 
animal  plunged  forward  it  found  itself  checked  by 
his  vice-like  grasp  upon  the  bridle.  Then  he  would 
stroke  it  gently,  and  seem  to  reason  with  it,  and 
quiet  it  with  soothing  words. 


THE  MAN  WITH  A  HISTORY.  43 

Just  then  the  door  of  the  refreshment  room  at 
tached  to  the  depot  opened,  —  the  boys  afterwards 
learned  that  this  was  merely  another  name  for  the 
barroom,  —  and  a  tall,  distinguished-looking  man 
came  out  wiping  his  lips.  He  was  dressed  in  black, 
and  had  a  fierce  black  mustache,  and  carried  him 
self  with  great  dignity.  In  one  hand  was  a  gold- 
headed  cane,  in  the  other  a  small  black  morocco 
case. 

Here  was  the  model  hero  of  romance.  Martin's 
eyes  sparkled.  Ned  and  Hope  beheld  him  with 
sinking  hearts.  Something  in  the  dark,  handsome 
face  aroused  in  them  a  nameless  repulsion. 

The  tall  gentleman  caught  sight  of  the  farmer 
struggling  with  the  spirited  horse.  Several  by 
standers  had  by  this  time  gathered  around  horse 
and  master,  and  each  offered  some  friendly  advice. 
The  tall  stranger  joined  them.  He  also  had  a  piece 
of  counsel  to  offer  :  — 

"  What 's  the  use  of  fooling  with  an  animal  in 
that  fashion  ?  "  he  demanded  impatiently.  "  You 
take  a  stout  whip  and  lay  it  over  him,  —  raise  the 
welts  on  his  back,  —  and  you  won't  have  any  more 
tr9uble  with  him." 

"  That  is  n't  my  way,  doctor,"  said  the  farmer 
quietly. 

At  last  the  animal  yielded  to  the  firm  and  gentle 
control,  and  stood  perfectly  still,  only  shivering 
slightly  as  the  engine,  with  one  wild  whistle  and 
snort,  thundered  off  down  the  steel  track.  She 
watched  the  flying  train  until  it  rounded  a  curve, 


44  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

then  gave  an  apologetic  whinny,  and  laid  her  nose 
on  her  master's  shoulder,  docile  as  a  kitten. 

The  tall  gentleman  turned  away  with  a  sneering 
expression  on  his  face. 

"  Dr.  John  !  " 

It  was  Martin,  who  gave  a  quick  step  forward 
and  hailed  him. 

"  Here,  my  boy.     Where  are  the  rest  of  you  ?  " 

A  hearty  voice,  with  a  ring  of  honest  welcome. 
Martin  stopped  short,  and  Ned  and  Hope  looked 
pleasantly  bewildered,  for  —  wonder  of  wonders  — 
it  was  the  ranchman  who  spoke,  and  who  now  came 
cordially  forward,  relieving  them  of  their  burdens, 
and  bidding  them  jump  into  the  two-seated  wagon, 
while  he  went  off  to  see  about  their  luggage. 

Martin,  smarting  under  the  sense  of  his  error, 
looked  critically  at  Dr.  John,  and  saw  only  a  man 
of  medium  height  and  slender  figure,  who  moved  and 
spoke  and  acted  precisely  like  other  men.  Under 
the  gray  felt  hat  appeared  the  face  of  a  man  of 
forty-odd  years,  very  bright  when  he  was  speaking, 
and  very  sober  in  repose. 

There  was  not  the  least  suggestion  of  the  hero 
about  him,  and  Martin  felt  defrauded.  So  this 
wonderful  Dr.  John  was  only  an  everyday,  ordi 
nary  man,  who  could  be  grave  or  gay,  silent  or  talk 
ative,  gentle  or  severe,  as  the  occasion  demanded. 

Ned  helped  his  sister  into  the  wagon,  but  re 
mained  standing  on  the  platform. 

It  was  evident  that  Dr.  John  was  a  general  fa 
vorite,  from  the  friendly  greetings  he  received  as  he 


THE  MAN    WITH  A  HISTORY.        .          45 

moved  along  the  platform.  Some  of  the  loiterers, 
mostly  villagers  of  respectability  and  farmers  look 
ing  after  shipments  of  produce,  drew  near  and  ad 
dressed  friendly  inquiries  to  the  children.  They 
seemed  to  be  at  once  adopted  into  the  little  com 
munity,  because  they  were  Dr.  John's  charges. 

"  What  is  it,  Ned  ?  "  said  Dr.  John,  as  he  came 
up  and  saw  the  boy's  waiting  attitude. 

This  way  of  addressing  them  by  their  Christian 
names  seemed  to  place  the  children  on  a  near  and 
friendly  footing  from  the  first. 

"  I  must  have  a  freight  bill  to  pay.  I  would  like 
to  settle  it  now,"  Ned  replied. 

The  children  could  not  understand  the  merri 
ment  that  this  remark  seemed  to  arouse  among  the 
bystanders,  and  which  appeared  to  be  directed  at  a 
stout,  bustling  man  near  by. 

"  Here 's  the  freight  agent/'  said  the  doctor 
genially.  "  Hatton,  have  you  any  bill  against  these 
young  people  ?  " 

"Dr.  John,  this  is  too  bad,"  replied  the  man 
called  Hatton. 

"  But  the  waybill,"  insisted  Ned.  "  They  told 
me  in  the  city  that  they  always  made  out  duplicates, 
and  that  it  would  be  sure  to  reach  here  before  the 
freight." 

"  Ned,"  said  the  doctor  solemnly,  "  that  calf  of 
yours  is  a  financier.  She  breakfasted  off  from  her 
own  freight  bill." 

"  And  all  the  others  that  I  had  in  my  pocket," 
confessed  the  agent. 


46  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

The  children  could  not  help  but  laugh.  It  was 
so  like  Beauty. 

"  Young  man,"  said  a  small,  bright-eyed  elderly 
gentleman  in  the  garb  of  a  farmer,  but  with  the 
face  of  an  old-time  poet,  addressing  Ned,  "  what 
will  you  take  for  that  calf  ?  I  can't  imagine  any 
better  way  of  getting  even  with  this  railroad  com 
pany  for  its  extortions  than  to  own  that  animal." 

"I'm  very  sorry,  sir,"  Ned  contrived  to  say  to 
the  freight  agent. 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  said  that  official,  glad  to 
escape  from  being  the  butt  of  a  practical  joke,  as 
any  self-respecting  man  must  be.  "  Don't  give 
yourself  any  concern.  I  've  sent  down  to  the  city 
for  a  new  consignment  of  bills,  but  the  sooner  you 
get  that  little  beast  of  yours  out  to  pasture  the 
better  "  — 

"For  the  railroad  company?"  suggested  the 
bright-eyed  old  farmer. 

But  the  doctor  had  already  turned  away,  and 
the  fleet  mare  was  bearing  them  swiftly  over  the 
smooth  road  and  past  the  village,  which  was  little 
more  than  a  trading  post  for  the  surrounding 
country.  A  turn  in  the  road  brought  them  in 
sight  of  a  noble  canon,  whose  mountainous  gateway 
seemed  to  have  been  cleft  asunder  by  some  plu- 
tonic  force. 

Martin  asked  one  question  on  the  road. 

"Dr.  John,  who  was  that  tall,  dark  man  who 
spoke  to  you  about  the  horse,  —  the  one  you  called 
'doctor'?" 


THE  MAN   WITH  A  HISTORY.  47 

"  He  ?  Oh,  he  is  a  sort  of  itinerant  dentist,"  re 
plied  Dr.  John  carelessly.  "  We  don't  think  very 
highly  of  him  about  here.  He  gambles,  and  gets 
drunk,  and  beats  his  wife." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Martin,  greatly  crestfallen. 

All  of  the  land  they  saw  was  under  cultivation, 
the  most  of  it  being  in  orchards  and  vineyards. 
Although  it  was  the  last  of  September,  there  was 
still  an  abundance  of  fruit  everywhere.  There  were 
trees  laden  with  red  and  yellow  apples ;  late  peach- 
trees  bent  beneath  their  golden  burdens ;  fig-trees 
sheltering  great  purple  lobes  under  their  abundant 
foliage ;  the  russet  of  pears,  the  yellow  of  quinces, 
the  dull  greens  and  browns  of  almond  and  walnut- 
husks,  were  everywhere  seen.  In  the  vineyards 
stood  large  wagons,  and  stacks  of  boxes  and  groups 
of  busy  Chinamen  told  of  the  vintage  at  hand. 

At  length  they  turned  into  a  place  evidently 
much  less  extensive  and  important  than  its  neigh 
bors,  but  which  somehow  had  a  different  and  dis 
tinctive  look :  perhaps  it  was  because  of  the  back 
ground  of  hills,  rising  so  majestically  behind  it; 
possibly  it  was  the  fringe  of  forest  trees  at  one 
side,  or  the  avenue  of  grand  old  sycamores  leading 
straight  from  the  entrance  to  the  door.  The  en 
trance  itself  was  something  to  be  studied  and  mar 
veled  over.  It  was  a  high  rustic  arch,  and  there 
were  rude  letters  above.  The  children  spelled  them 
out:  "  S-O-M-B-R-A." 

"'Sombra.'  What  does  that  mean?"  asked 
Martin. 


48  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  It  is  only  a  fancy,  —  the  name  I  call  my  place. 
It  is  the  Spanish  for  shadow,  and  you  see  I  am  in 
the  shadow  of  the  hills,"  answered  Dr.  John  eva 
sively. 

The  Shadow !  Ned  felt  at  once  that  the  name 
had  some  deeper  meaning. 

They  looked  with  interest  on  the  garden  through 
which  they  were  passing,  and  which  was  unlike  any 
they  had  ever  seen  before.  There  were  none  of 
the  geometrical  lines  and  stiff,  conventional  ways 
that  possess  most  California  gardens  like  a  blight. 
This  was  a  genuine  old-fashioned  garden,  under  a 
new-fashioned  clime  and  in  a  new-fashioned  land. 
Rose  hedges  raised  a  defense  of  thorn  and  flower 
about  the  stretches  of  green  lawn.  Sweet-scented 
white  and  purple  violets  fringed  their  margin. 
Castilian  roses,  tea  roses,  Luxembourg,  Jacquemi 
not,  Marechal  Niel,  Cloth-of-gold,  Gold-of-Ophir, 
Safrano,  Bon  Silene,  La  Marque  roses,  rioted 
everywhere  and  filled  the  air  with  their  fragrance. 
There  were  tree-like  fuchsias,  and  great  clumps  of 
pampas  grass,  and  a  hollow  filled  with  wonderful 
varieties  of  flower-de-luce,  of  melting  colors ;  and 
there  was  a  deep  pond  where  goldfish  glanced  and 
the  pond-lily  bloomed. 

The  house  was  a  neat  frame  structure,  so  lost  in 
vines  that  it  was  impossible  to  follow  its  outlines, 
but  it  had  a  strangely  silent  and  deserted  look. 

Dr.  John  drew  up  at  a  side  porch  and  went  into 
the  house,  soon  reappearing  with  a  covered  basket. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CROSSING   THE   RUBICON. 

"  Now,"  said  the  doctor  gayly,  "  we  must  pro 
ceed  to  the  claim.  But  how  do  you  suppose  I  am 
going  to  get  you  across  the  Rubicon,  and  why  don't 
you  ask  after  your  freight  ?  How  do  you  know  that 
I  have  n't  confiscated  it,  and  may  be  even  now  lead 
ing  you  into  some  dangerous  pitfall?  " 

He  was  driving  down  a  shaded  road  at  the  rear 
of  the  house  as  he  spoke. 

"You  look  as  if  you  could  be  trusted,"  said  Hope 
quaintly. 

Ned  laughed  boyishly  at  this  rejoinder,  but  Mar 
tin  saw  Dr.  John  give  a  quick,  strange  glance  at 
the  little  girl. 

They  soon  came  to  the  bank  of  a  beautiful 
stream,  with  tall  sycamores  and  bending  willows 
gracing  either  margin.  Beyond,  on  the  further 
side,  was  disclosed  a  view  that  filled  them  with  de 
light,  for  there,  on  a  gentle  slope  which  seemed  to 
be  hollowed  out  of  the  mountains,  bounded  by  steep 
hills,  and  looking  like  a  mammoth  amphitheatre 
rent  in  twain,  was  their  own  dear  home  to  be. 
They  had  a  glimpse  of  some  rough  dwellings,  then 
they  heard  a  low,  contented  "  Moo,"  and  saw  Beautv 


50  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

but  a  few  rods  below  them,  grazing  happily  away, 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  on  legitimate  fodder. 
The  children  sprang  out  of  the  wagon,  and  the 
horse  was  tied  to  a  tree. 

"  Why,  Dr.  John,  here  's  something  that  looks 
like  a  raft,"  cried  Ned,  bending  over  and  looking 
in  the  shadows  of  the  willow  near  by. 

"  It  is  a  raft,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  or  at  least  it 
tries  hard  to  be  one.  It  has  a  good  deal  of  busi 
ness  before  it,  and  we  must  have  confidence  in  it, 
or  perhaps  it  will  founder  and  go  down.  I  think  it 
will  carry  everything  but  your  horse.  He  is  wel 
come  to  quarters  in  my  stable  until  Ned  finds  time 
to  take  him  round  by  the  hill  trail." 

As  the  children  ran  up  to  the  pretty  calf,  they 
noticed  that  close  to  the  bank  of  the  stream,  be 
neath  a  clump  of  alders,  stood  their  modest  packing 
cases. 

The  boys  at  once  threw  off  their  coats  and  went 
to  work,  and  while  Dr.  John  held  the  raft  against 
the  shore,  they  lifted  some  small  articles  of  furni 
ture  upon  it,  until  the  doctor  declared  that  its 
capacity  was  exhausted. 

"  This  reminds  me  of  some  of  the  makeshifts  in 
war  times,"  observed  the  doctor  pleasantly,  as  he 
seized  a  stout  pole,  and  made  ready  to  push  off 
from  shore. 

"  Were  you  ever  a  soldier  ? "  cried  Martin 
eagerly. 

"  Yes ;  after  a  fashion.  Now  jump  aboard,  Ned, 
and  unload  on  the  other  side." 


CROSSING  THE  RUBICON.  51 

Back  and  forth  the  little  craft  moved,  until 
everything  inanimate  was  at  length  safely  across, 
and  there  remained,  besides  the  human  passengers, 
one  article  of  very  animate  freight,  which  promised 
some  difficulty  in  handling. 

For  Beauty  came  aboard  with  a  leap  and  a  bound 
that  almost  swamped  the  raft,  and  sprang  hither 
and  thither,  from  one  side  to  the  other,  to  smell  of 
the  water,  and  even  to  refresh  herself  with  a  small 
draught  of  the  crystal  liquid.  Once  fairly  launched 
upon  her  voyage,  however,  she  behaved  like  an  old 
arid  experienced  sailor,  and  made  the  trip  with  great 
dignity,  albeit  she  was  plainly  consumed  with  curi 
osity  to  know  what  it  all  meant. 

Little  Hope  was  the  last  passenger,  and  before 
he  handed  her  on  board,  the  doctor  ran  up  to  the 
wagon  and  lifted  out  the  covered  basket  he  had  put 
in  at  the  house.  Hope  was  very  timid,  and  she 
feared  the  water,  but  she  was  careful  not  to  scream 
out  when  the  raft  made  a  sudden  lunge,  or  to  do 
anything  that  might  make  the  doctor  regard  her 
as  a  drawback  to  the  boys,  as  she  could  not  help 
feeling  Mr.  Roberts  had  done. 

"You'll  come  up  with  us,  Dr.  John?"  asked 
Ned,  as  the  doctor  handed  Hope  ashore  with  grave 
courtesy. 

"  Not  now,  Ned.  You  will  have  to  explore  the 
place  alone.  I  have  some  patients  that  I  must  be 
off  to  see.  Don't  attempt  to  do  too  much  to-day. 
Your  goods  are  perfectly  safe  where  they  are.  If 
you  cannot  make  yourselves  comfortable  for  the 


52  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

night  —  Oh,  well!  I  shall  be  over  to  see  how  you 
are  doing." 

Was  it  any  wonder  that  the  children  could  hardly 
wait  to  see  him  off,  before  starting  out  on  their 
investigations  ?  Hand  in  hand,  they  climbed  The 
Brook's  steep  bank,  leading  Beauty  by  her  rope. 
Then  they  paused,  dismayed  by  the  sight  before 
them. 

Their  way  was  barred  by  a  forest  of  tall  mustard 
stalks,  twelve  to  fifteen  feet  in  height  and  an  inch 
or  so  in  diameter,  dry  and  scorched  by  the  long 
summer's  heat,  and  crowned  with  dry  pods  that 
rattled  when  they  were  touched,  and  showered 
their  seeds  down  on  the  parched  vegetation  under 
foot. 

With  great  discomfort  and  considerable  difficulty 
they  threaded  this  miniature  forest,  starting  all  sorts 
of  wild  things  as  they  went  on.  Cotton-tail  rab 
bits  fled  before  them.  Gophers  stuck  their  heads 
out  of  the  ground,  and  viewed  them  with  jewel-like 
eyes,  then  noiselessly  retreated  to  their  underground 
preserves.  Large  gra}^  ground  squirrels  sat  up 
on  their  haunches,  with  bushy  tails  curled  grace 
fully  around  them  and  wee  forepaws  dropped  down 
ward  as  if  in  mimic  curtsey,  but  scampered  off  at 
their  approach.  Flocks  of  birds  arose  from  their 
feeding  grounds,  and  lizards  rustled  through  the 
dead  leaves. 

When  they  had  advanced  a  few  rods  they  were 
surprised  to  find  a  narrow,  open  trail,  where  the 
ground  was  bare  and  packed  hard,  as  if  by  daily 


CROSSING   THE  RUBICON.  53 

tread.  From  its  direction,  this  trail  apparently  led 
from  the  buildings  to  the  stream.  They  stopped 
short,  a  little  excited,  and  looked  apprehensively  at 
each  other. 

"  What  if  some  one  should  be  living  there  :  some 
hermit  or  crazy  person,"  suggested  Martin,  who  was 
addicted  to  sensational  theories. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  Ned.  "  It  is  probably 
some  wild  thing,  —  a  coon  or  a  coyote." 

When  they  had  gone  about  a  hundred  yards  they 
came  out  of  the  mustard  field,  and  saw  before  them 
an  old  adobe  cottage,  so  clumsily  built  and  so  badly 
crumbled  away  in  places  that  even  Ned's  brave 
spirit  sank  at  the  thought  of  attempting  to  make 
it  habitable. 

It  was  a  low  structure,  long  and  narrow,  with  the 
front  door  under  the  eaves,  and  flanked  by  one  and 
two  windows,  on  either  side.  Beside  it  was  a  tall 
Monterey  cypress,  and  before  it  stood  a  pair  of 
pepper  trees,  through  whose  fern-like  foliage  the 
air  and  sunshine  played,  while  at  either  end  of  the 
rough  little  porch,  where  some  careless  hand  had 
doubtless  planted  them  years  before,  were  pink 
climbing  roses  of  luxurious  growth. 

Tho  children  tied  the  calf  to  the  cypress,  and 
bent  their  footsteps  towards  the  house.  It  seemed 
strange  to  them  that  the  front  door  should  be  ajar, 
but  they  wondered  no  longer  when  they  saw  that 
the  thumb-latch  was  broken.  What  dismayed  them 
as  they  climbed  the  rickety  steps  and  entered  the 
front  room  was  the  confusion  of  tracks  that  went 


54  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

before  them,  and  seemed  to  wander  aimlessly  over 
the  floor. 

The  room  in  which  they  found  themselves  was 
about  twenty-four  feet  long  and  fourteen  feet  wide, 
with  a  solid  floor  and  walls  ceiled  with  rough 
boards.  There  was  a  rude  fireplace  at  one  side, 
but  it  was  poorly  constructed,  and  the  space  within 
was  filled  with  crumbling  brick. 

The  chimney  was  built  out  into  the  room,  and 
had  no  pretense  at  a  mantel ;  but  the  ledges  of 
brick,  where  the  fire  arch  narrowed  into  the  flue, 
still  held  pieces  of  broken  clay  pipes,  some  rusty 
nails,  and  an  old  harness  ring. 

Behind  this  room  was  an  open  door  leading  into 
a  little  "  lean-to  "  kitchen,  which  a  fastidious  house 
keeper  might  have  called  stifling  and  stuffy,  and 
many  other  disagreeable  names;  but  our  little 
housewife  looked  cheerfully  into  it,  and  declared 
that  it  would  be  nice  and  snug  and  easy  to  work  in, 
when  it  should  be  cleaned  out  and  fitted  up.  Ned 
observed  that  there  was  a  stovepipe  hole  in  the 
wall  at  one  side,  and  drawing  a  rule  from  his  pocket 
took  its  height  and  measurement,  with  an  eye  to 
business. 

One  more  room  waited  to  be  explored.  This 
opened  off  from  the  front  room,  and  had  a  window 
half  wreathed  in  by  the  climbing  roses.  As  they 
took  their  way  towards  it,  they  were  startled  to  hear 
a  movement  within,  as  of  some  heavy  body  dragged 
along  the  floor. 

Three   young   hearts    leaped.      Three   youthful 


CROSSING   THE  RUBICON.  55 

faces  turned  pale.  Ned  thought  of  the  mysterious 
trail  down  to  the  Brook.  Martin  recalled  ghost 
stories  he  had  read.  Hope  gave  a  little  cry  of 
horror : — 

"  Oh,  boys,  don't  go  in.     If  —  if  it  should  be  — 
a  tramp ! " 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

DISCOVERY. 

BUT  Ned  had  a  responsibility  to  sustain,  as  the 
sworn  head  of  the  family,  and  he  pushed  the  half 
open  door  wide,  and  boldly  looked  in. 

"  I  declare/'  he  said,  "  if  it  is  n't  a  dog !  " 

And  so  it  was :  a  gaunt  Newfoundland,  who  seemed 
in  the  last  stages  of  want  and  despair.  He  was 
crouched  on  the  floor,  with  his  nose  resting  011  his 
paws,  and  as  he  saw  the  young  faces  at  the  door  he 
lifted  his  head  and  gave  one  prolonged  howl.  The 
dismal  sound  seemed  to  hold  volumes  of  misery 
and  pain. 

"  Poor  fellow !  "  cried  Ned,  dropping  beside  him 
and  patting  his  head  ;  a  caress  to  which  the  dog  re 
sponded  with  a  feeble  whine,  making  an  effort  to 
get  up,  but  falling  back  exhausted. 

"  He  is  hurt.  He  drags  one  leg  after  him,"  ex 
claimed  Martin. 

"  It  is  an  old  hurt,"  asserted  Ned,  examining  the 
maimed  leg.  "  It  has  been  broken  or  crushed,  and 
stiffened  up  all  out  of  shape.  I  believe  the  poor 
fellow  is  starving.  Let  us  go  and  bring  our  lunch, 
Martin,  and  get  some  water  from  The  Brook." 

Leaving  Hope  with  the  dog,  the  boys  hastened 


DISCOVERY.  57 

back  to  where  they  had  left  the  valise,  and  getting 
a  tin  pail  from  one  of  the  boxes  filled  it  with 
water.  As  they  observed  the  doctor's  basket, 
they  remembered  his  parting  injunction,  and, 
opening  it,  found  it  contained  a  large  bowl  of  de 
licious  strawberries,  a  paper  bag  filled  with  sugar, 
a  lot  of  fresh  rolls,  some  cold  meat,  and  a  large 
loaf  of  cake,  —  provisions  enough  for  a  day  or 
more. 

The  little  girl  was  still  sitting  by  the  dog  when 
they  returned.  He  had  stretched  himself  out  upon 
one  side,  and  laid  one  great  paw  on  her  dress. 
He  looked  up  beseechingly  as  the  boys  came  into 
the  room,  and  they  hastened  to  answer  his  dumb 
prayer  with  a  dish  of  water,  which  he  lapped  up 
eagerly.  Then  they  fed  him  small  pieces  of  bread, 
which  he  caught  at  greedily  and  swallowed  at  a 
gulp,  begging  for  more  and  more,  until  he  finally 
sat  up  and  tried  to  wag  his  bushy  tail,  in  humble 
acknowledgment  of  their  kindness.  It  sweetened 
their  own  meal  to  feel  that  they  had  brought  re 
lief  to  this  unfortunate  animal,  and  this  little  deed 
of  mercy  seemed  to  bless  their  first  entrance  into 
their  new  home. 

"  Now,  Martin,  suppose  we  go  down  and  begin 
carrying  up  the  things.  If  we  work  alive,  I  '11 
warrant  we  '11  get  up  everything  we  need  before 
night.  Hope,  you  can  stay  up  here  or  go  down 
with  us,  just  as  you  like." 

"Oh,  I'll  stay  here  and  tidy  up  a  little,"  de 
clared  the  young  sister  brightly.  "  I  '11  sweep 


58  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

down  a  few  of  these  cobwebs  and  brush  off  the 
floors,  and  it  will  do  nicely  for  to-night." 

But  Hope  turned  pale,  even  as  she  spoke. 

"  Oh,  Ned.     What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  What  is  it,  little  sister  ?  "  cried  Ned  with  real 
concern. 

"  It  is  terrible.  I  don't  know  what  we  can  do. 
I  left  the  broom  hanging  on  its  nail  in  the  city." 

This  oversight  did  not  seem  half  as  tragical  to 
the  boys  as  it  did  to  the  small  housewife. 

"  Well,  that 's  good !  "  "  What  a  situation  !  " 
"  Worse  than  '  Twelve  miles  from  a  lemon,' "  were 
their  merry  comments. 

"  Don't  you  worry,  little  woman,"  said  Ned. 
"  I  've  read  of  the  birch  brooms  our  Puritan 
grandmothers  used.  There 's  that  Monterey  cy 
press.  It  needs  trimming  badly.  Mart,  you  hunt 
up  a  good  stick  for  a  handle,  and  I  '11  get  the  rest 
ready." 

Bough  after  bough  fell  before  the  sharp-bladed 
jackknife,  and  by  the  time  Martin  reappeared  with 
an  old  hoe  handle,  Ned  had  fished  a  ball  of  string 
from  his  pocket  and  commenced  to  bind  the  green 
boughs,  layer  after  layer,  in  true  scientific  fashion, 
about  the  end.  In  little  more  time  than  it  takes 
to  tell  it,  Hope  was  in  possession  of  a  genuine 
broom,  very  primitive  in  shape  and  not  quite  as 
efficient  as  one  of  the  modern  kind,  but  which  was 
still  invaluable  at  that  moment. 

The  boys  worked  like  Trojans,  and  while  the  sun 
was  still  high  had  succeeded  in  transporting  all  of 


DISCOVERY.  59 

the  smaller  articles  to  the  house,  but  when  it  came 
to  the  stove,  they  were  for  a  moment  disheartened. 

"  We  can  never  carry  it  that  distance,  and  over 
the  rough  ground,"  said  Ned  decidedly.  "We 
shall  have  to  contrive  a  way." 

Sending  Martin  to  help  Hope  to  place  the  furni 
ture  in  the  house,  Ned  set  to  work  with  hatchet 
and  tools,  and  cutting  down  a  young  sapling  that 
stood  by  the  bank  of  the  stream,  and  knocking  up 
some  of  the  heavier  cases  in  which  their  goods  had 
been  packed,  he  constructed  a  stout  little  sled. 
Martin  was  called  back;  together  the  boys  suc 
ceeded  in  placing  the  stove  upon  it,  and  harness 
ing  himself  to  the  rope  he  had  tied  to  the  bar 
across  the  front,  with  Martin  pushing  behind,  Ned 
started  for  the  house.  In  a  short  time  they  had 
the  stove  in  place,  a  bright  fire  burning,  and  their 
evening  meal  before  them. 

When  this  was  eaten,  they  hastened  to  make  up 
beds  and  to  prepare  for  the  night's  rest.  Before 
retiring,  they  all  stepped  out  of  doors  to  take  a 
last  look  at  the  mountains,  even  more  beautiful  by 
moonlight,  which  seemed  to  wrap  them  in  a  solemn 
silence  broken  only  by  the  music  of  The  Brook 
below. 

They  went  to  bed  that  night  weary  of  body,  but 
light  of  heart.  Six  willing  hands,  three  brave 
hearts,  an  old  horse,  a  little  heifer  calf,  a  few  of 
the  homeliest  articles  of  household  furniture,  and 
the  prospective  ownership  of  a  hundred  and  sixty 
acres  of  government  land,  was  the  sum  of  their 


60  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

possessions.  It  was  not  much.  To  some  it  may 
seem  a  hazy  capital  to  start  upon  ;  but  is  there  an 
other  country  on  the  face  of  the  globe  where  such 
possibilities  are  open  to  the  children  of  a  poor  me 
chanic  ? 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   TOUR   OF   EXPLORATION. 

THEY  awoke  in  the  morning  to  the  sound  of  a 
loud  halloo,  which  seemed  to  come  from  the  direc 
tion  of  The  Brook.  How  many  times  it  had  al 
ready  been  repeated  they  could  not  guess. 

Sending  up  an  answering  shout,  the  boys  hurried 
on  their  clothes,  and  were  soon  on  their  way  to  the 
stream. 

Dr.  John  had  been  unable  to  fulfill  his  half-made 
promise  to  return  and  give  them  his  assistance  the 
afternoon  before,  for  he  had  been  called  off  a  long 
distance  into  the  country,  and  had  not  returned 
until  late  in  the  evening.  The  thought  of  the  chil 
dren,  in  that  isolated  place,  thrown  entirely  on 
their  own  resources,  had  worried  him  not  a  little. 
With  the  earliest  light  of  dawn  he  had  arisen,  and, 
not  waiting  for  his  breakfast,  hastened  to  The 
Brook  and  taken  passage  for  the  other  side.  They 
found  him  standing  on  the  bank  and  looking  about 
him  in  bewilderment. 

"  Where  are  your  goods,  and  where  did  you 
sleep  last  night  ? "  he  demanded  of  the  boys, 
as  soon  as  they  came  in  sight.  He  had  quite  ex 
pected  to  find  the  young  people  camping  out  be- 


62  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

side  the  stream  and  cooking  over  an  open  camp- 
fire. 

"  Oh,  Ned  and  I  got  everything  up  to  the  house 
yesterday,"  replied  Martin  indifferently. 

"  Well  done,  boys,"  said  the  doctor  aloud.  His 
inward  comment  was  still  more  cordial.  "  Three 
hundred  yards  at  least,  uphill,  through  a  thicket 
of  weeds  and  brush.  Plucky  fellows.  They  '11 
do  !  "  was  what  he  said  to  himself. 

"  Well,  how  do  things  look  ?  I  suppose  you  've 
been  all  over  the  place." 

"  Why,  no,  sir,"  said  Ned.  "  There  was  too 
much  to  do  yesterday.  We  saved  that  for  to 
day." 

Another  unspoken  compliment,  not  less  cordial 
than  the  first,  passed  through  the  doctor's  mind. 

"  Hope  is  up,  and  has  a  fire,  She 's  got  ahead 
of  us  this  morning,  Martin,"  exclaimed  Ned,  point 
ing  to  a  breath  of  blue  smoke  curling  up  from  the 
low  cottage  as  they  approached  it. 

Sure  enough,  as  they  neared  the  house,  the  little 
girl,  her  face  shining,  and  with  a  neat  gingham 
apron  drawn  over  her  woolen  dress,  came  out  to 
meet  them  and  to  extend  a  smiling  welcome  to  the 
doctor. 

"  Hope,"  said  Dr.  John,  "  can't  you  give  me  a  cup 
of  coffee  and  a  mouthful  of  bread ?  I'm  hungry." 

"  Certainly,  Dr.  John.  I  shall  be  glad  to,"  said 
Hope,  trying  hard  to  disguise  the*  shyness  she  felt 
at  exposing  their  simple  ways  of  life  to  a  stranger. 
This  morning  was  only  a  makeshift  at  best.  The 


A  TOUR  OF  EXPLORATION.  63 

table  linen  was  at  the  bottom  of  a  trunk,  and  she 
had  spread  newspapers  on  the  table.  But  she  got 
out  a  few  pieces  of  old  china,  that  had  been  in 
her  mother's  family  nobody  knew  how  many  years, 
which  the  doctor  noticed  and  admired,  and  alto 
gether  they  had  a  merry  breakfast  of  it. 

"  Now,"  said  the  doctor,  pushing  his  chair  back 
and  declaring  that  he  had  made  a  heartier  break 
fast  than  he  had  enjoyed  for  months;  "  I  propose 
that  we  start  out  on  a  tour  of  discovery.  I  confess 
that  I,  for  one,  am  very  curious  to  know  just  what 
there  is  on  the  ranch.  Why,  what  is  this  !  You 
have  a  dog  ?  " 

For  a  huge  shadow  had  darkened  the  door,  and 
there  stood  the  great  Newfoundland,  a  little  re 
freshed  by  his  dinner  of  the  night  before,  but  still 
gaunt  and  weak. 

"  We  found  him  in  the  house,"  explained  Martin. 

"In  the  house?"  repeated  the  doctor,  looking 
puzzled.  "Was  there  any  sign  of  anything  else  — 
of  any  human  being  —  about  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Ned.  "  It  looks  to  me  as  if 
the  poor  fellow  had  been  here  a  long  time.  He  is 
very  lame  ;  he  has  a  bad  leg.  There  was  a  path 
worn  down  to  the  water  that  I  think  he  must  have 
made.  The  weeds  came  together  above.  We 
could  n't  use  it  till  we  cut  them  away." 

"  The  man  who  used  to  live  here  had  a  dog  like 
this,  a  large  Newfoundland  puppy,"  said  the  doc 
tor  reflectively.  "  I  wonder  if  he  could  have  left 
him  here,  and  the  dog  survived  all  these  years. 


64  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

He  was  a  brutal  fellow,  —  the  man.  Come  here, 
old  fellow,  and  let  me  see  your  leg." 

The  dog  labored  across  the  floor  and  sat  down  at 
Dr.  John's  feet.  The  doctor  examined  the  injured 
member. 

"  That  was  done  by  a  blow  or  a  kick,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  how  cruel!"  cried  Hope.  "And  he  left 
the  dog  here  to  suffer  and  starve.  What  could  he 
have  lived  on  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Fish  from  the  stream,  perhaps. 
I  have  heard  of  animals  changing  their  nature  in 
such  cases,  and  turning  graminivorous.  He  cer 
tainly  would  have  proved  up  his  title  to  the  ranch 
if  a  dog  could  do  it.  He  is  in  a  sorry  condition 
for  hunting.  I  might  help  the  leg  even  now,  poor 
fellow,  but  it  will  hurt.  Shall  I  do  it  ?  " 

There  was  something  almost  human  in  the  dog's 
low  whine,  the  appeal  of  his  honest  eyes. 

"  Very  well,  sir.  Take  firm  hold  up  here,  Ned. 
Don't  let  the  dog  stir  if  you  can  help  it." 

Dr.  John  took  hold  of  the  lower  portion  of  the 
injured  leg,  and  pulled  with  great  force  upon  it. 
The  stiffened  cords  and  muscles  gave  way,  there 
was  a  dull  crunch  of  bones,  and  the  joint  settled 
back  into  place. 

"  Now  for  splints  and  bandages,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  Brave  old  fellow !  He  is  a  regular  *  Old  Dog  Tray,' 
and  we  must  call  him  so.  It  will  never  be  a  pretty 
leg  again,  but  with  good  care  he  can  walk  more 
comfortably  after  this.  Now  I  have  an  hour  more 
to  spare,  and  we  must  spend  it  looking  around." 


A  TOUR  OF  EXPLORATION.  65 

The  children  started  up  eagerly,  and  together 
they  went  out  of  the  front  door,  and  standing  for  a 
moment  at  the  edge  of  the  natural  terrace  whereon 
the  house  stood,  looked  down  upon  The  Brook  and 
off  across  the  country. 

Hope  gave  an  exclamation  of  delight.  The  hills 
approached  so  closely  to  them,  on  either  side,  that 
they  seemed  to  be  looking  through  a  mountainous 
gateway.  The  rich  browns  of  the  bare  rocks  and 
faded  yellows  of  the  dried  grasses  struck  sharply 
against  the  moist  greens  of  the  low-lying  valley, 
with  its  extensive  orchards  and  vineyards.  The 
Brook,  arched  with  living  green  in  the  foreground, 
wound  like  a  silver  ribbon  through  the  valley,  until 
it  became  merged  in  a  broader  sheet  of  silver  in 
the  distance,  which  they  knew  to  be  the  beautiful 
Bay  of  San  Francisco,  the  noblest  harbor  in  the 
world.  The  purple  hills  of  the  peninsula  bounded 
the  horizon. 

"  Look  off  there  to  the  left,  boys,"  said  the  doc 
tor. 

They  looked  in  the  direction  which  he  indicated, 
and  saw  some  rows  of  stunted  trees  struggling 
above  the  tall  weeds. 

"  An  orchard  !  "  cried  both  boys  in  a  breath. 

It  was  an  orchard,  but  such  a  starved  and 
blighted  one  that  it  seemed  a  mere  caricature  of 
the  thriving  growths  in  the  valley  below.  They 
threaded  their  way  to  it  with  difficulty.  There 
were  twenty  rows  of  trees,  originally  numbering 
about  twenty  trees  to  the  row,  but  many  had  died 


66  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

in  infancy  and  decayed  to  the  ground,  while  others 
had  fallen  a  prey  to  burrowing  rodents  or  insect 
pests,  and  still  stood  upright,  their  leafless  branches 
overgrown  with  lichens. 

"  What  puzzles  ine,"  said  Dr.  John,  looking  about 
him,  "  is  the  fact  that  Hank  Jones,  the  lazy  fellow 
who  took  up  this  claim,  should  have  had  sufficient 
enterprise  to  plant  out  even  this  mongrel  collection 
of  trees." 

"  I  have  it ! "  he  exclaimed,  a  moment  later. 
"  The  man  was  a  great  glutton  ;  lazy  people  invari 
ably  are.  Whenever  he  ate  a  peach  or  plum  or  any 
other  kind  of  fruit,  and  he  was  convenient  to  the 
spot,  he  planted  the  pit  or  seed.  This  orchard  rep 
resents  his  gourmandizing  at  different  periods  dur 
ing  the  year  he  lived  up  here.  He  ate  a  couple 
of  dozen  apricots  at  a  sitting  one  day,  and  this 
row  of  apricot  trees  —  half  are  living  and  half  of 
them  are  dead  —  was  the  result.  Then  he  ate  a 
handful  of  cherries,  and  planted  the  pits  over 
there.  At  some  time  or  other,  he  got  hold  of  a 
mixed  lot  of  plums  and  peaches,  and  that  gives 
us  this  mixed  row.  Only  one  thing  disputes 
my  theory:  how  he  ever  managed  to  deny  him 
self  that  walnut  and  those  almonds,  I  cannot 
understand." 

They  all  laughed  gleefully,  and  a  magical  echo 
answered  from  the  hills. 

"  What  makes  the  ground  so  hard?  "  asked  Ned, 
striking  his  heel  against  the  earth,  which  gave  back 
a  ringing,  flinty  sound. 


A   TOUR  OF  EXPLORATION.  67 

"  The  same  cause  that  makes  the  trees  so  stunted 
and  the  fruit  so  worthless,  —  lack  of  cultivation," 
was  the  reply.  "  The  ground  has  been  allowed  to 
bake  after  the  rains,  and  the  weeds  have  sapped 
most  of  the  moisture  and  the  vitality  from  it.  If 
it  had  been  properly  cultivated  the  weeds  would 
have  been  kept  down,  and  the  crumbly  top  soil 
would  have  condensed  moisture  from  the  atmos 
phere,  instead  of  perpetually  giving  to  it.  If  these 
trees  were  mine,  boys,  I  am  not  sure  whether  I 
should  try  to  make  them  of  some  account,  or  root 
them  up  and  plant  new  in  their  place." 

They  were  walking  toward  the  house  again,  and 
for  the  first  time  they  noticed  that  Hope  was  labor 
ing  under  happy  excitement. 

"Oh,  boys !  And  Dr.  John !  Now  you  must 
come  and  see  what  I  have  found,"  she  cried. 

She  had  run  on  ahead,  and  was  leading  the  way 
toward  the  hills  behind  the  house.  When  she  had 
gone  a  little  distance  she  stopped,  and  beckoned 
them  to  come. 

There  was  a  spring  of  crystal  pure  water,  a  great, 
bowl-shaped  hollow  in  the  rocks,  the  overflow  from 
which  formed  a  tiny  brooklet,  that  gurgled  over  the 
ground  for  a  short  distance  and  then,  not  having 
sufficient  force  or  volume  to  find  its  way  to  The 
Brook,  soon  disappeared  from  sight.  Beside  it  a 
wild  rose  was  pink  with  bloom.  But  it  was  not 
this  to  which  the  young  girl  was  pointing,  with  eyes 
that  sparkled,  and  her  mouth  wreathed  in  a  happy 
smile.  Directly  in  the  path  of  the  spring's  over- 


68  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

flow  there  stood  a  large  orange-tree.  Untouched 
by  the  beauty-destroying  hand  of  the  horticulturist, 
it  had  attained  a  noble  growth,  and  from  crown  to 
root  its  dense  foliage  formed  a  rich  setting  for  the 
wealth  of  yellow-green  and  golden  fruit  that  hung 
upon  it.  It  was  evidently  a  seedling  which  had 
come  into  bearing  a  couple  of  years  before,  for  the 
largest  of  its  fruit,  when  subjected  to  examination, 
showed  a  sponge-like  rind  an  inch  thick,  with  a 
partially  dried  pulp  in  the  centre,  while  the  second- 
sized  oranges  were  also  distinguished  by  heavy 
rinds,  but  were  still  sweet  and  juicy. 

As  they  came  down  from  the  spring,  Ned,  who 
had  been  very  silent  during  the  latter  part  of  their 
walk,  looked  troubled  and  dejected.  They  stopped 
a  moment  to  look  at  an  old  building  in  the  rear  of 
the  house.  It  was  built  of  hewn  logs,  mortised  to 
gether  at  the  corners,  and  provided  with  a  stout 
roof  of  similar  construction,  which  had  been  plas 
tered  with  clay.  It  had  110  window  or  opening  of 
any  kind,  save  a  small,  clumsy  door,  that  fastened 
with  a  heavy  hasp  and  staple.  A  huge  padlock 
hung  from  the  latter. 

"  What  an  odd  place  !  "  exclaimed  Martin. 

"A  regular  old-fashioned  smokehouse,  such  as 
you  will  find  everywhere  throughout  the  South," 
commented  the  doctor. 

The  children  looked  at  it  curiously  for  a  moment, 
and  then  passed  it  by,  little  foreseeing  the  important 
part  it  was  to  play  in  an  exciting  episode  of  the 
years  to  come. 


A  TOUE  OF  EXPLORATION.  69 

As  they  neared  the  house,  Ned  laid  his  hand  on 
the  doctor's  arm. 

"  Dr.  John,  may  I  speak  to  you  for  one  minute 
alone  ?  "  he  asked. 

u  Certainly,  Ned,"  replied  the  doctor,  wondering 
what  could  have  brought  the  look  of  trouble  and 
perplexity  to  the  young  fellow's  face. 

They  moved  off  in  the  direction  of  the  orchard, 
where  Ned  took  his  stand  with  folded  arms,  and 
remained  for  a  moment  silent  with  embarrassment. 

44  Out  with  it !  "  commanded  Dr.  John. 

"  Why,  you  see,  it  came  over  me  down  here  in 
the  orchard.  You  talked  about  pruning,  and  thin 
ning,  and  cultivating.  1  have  n't  the  slightest  idea 
what  any  of  them  mean.  Dr.  John,  I  've  come  out 
here  to  make  a  living  as  a  farmer,  and  I  don't  know 
the  first  thing  about  farming." 

Ned  was  a  little  exasperated  to  see  the  doctor's 
eyes  twinkle,  his  mouth  twitch,  and  finally  to  behold 
him  convulsed  with  laughter. 

"  It  may  seem  very  funny  to  you,  Dr.  John,"  said 
the  boy  sadly,  "  but  it 's  no  laughing  matter  to  me, 
if  I  'm  going  to  make  a  failure  of  it." 

"It's  not  that,  Ned,  —  not  that,"  laughed  the 
doctor.  "But  to  think  that  a  boy  of  your  age 
should  make  the  discovery  so  soon.  There  are 
dozens  of  men  in  the  valley  who  would  give  thou 
sands  of  dollars  to  have  found  that  very  thing  out 
in  time.  The  trouble  is  that  they  always  start  in 
thinking  that  they  do  know,  you  see.  Don't  worry, 
my  boy.  You  're  safe." 


70  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  But  I  've  got  to  learn  somehow  or  other,"  in 
sisted  Ned.  "  I  don't  even  know  what  tools  and 
implements  to  buy,  or  what  to  plant." 

"  The  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  find  out.  Go 
to  some  one  who  has  had  experience  and  has  made 
a  practical  success.  Go  to  Mr.  Abbott,  our  nursery 
man,  the  one  who  wanted  to  negotiate  for  your  calf. 
Tell  him  just  how  much  money  you  've  got,  and  ask 
his  advice  about  expending  it." 

Ned's  heart  was  very  much  lightened  as  they  re 
turned  to  the  house,  where  Martin  seized  the  oppor 
tunity  for  himself  and  accosted  Dr.  John. 

"  Have  n't  you  any  wife  or  children  ?  " 

Like  most  boys  of  his  age,  he  always  had  a  ques 
tion  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue. 

Neither  of  the  three  ever  forgot  the  reply. 

A  change  swept  over  the  doctor's  face,  making 
it  look  gray  arid  old,  all  in  an  instant. 

"I  had,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "But  it's  like  your 
land  here.  It's  an  'abandoned  claim.'  I  never 
'proved  up.' " 


CHAPTER    X. 

A   BUSY   DAY. 

A  WEEK  later  Ned  went  down  to  Oakland  and 
entered  the  land  in  due  form.  When  he  came  back 
he  got  his  horse  from  Dr.  John's  stable,  and  re 
turned  home  by  the  hill  road,  stopping  at  the 
Abbott  nursery  on  the  way. 

The  hours  he  spent  with  the  old  man  were  a  lib 
eral  education  in  fruit  farming.  Mr.  Abbott  helped 
him  to  lay  out  his  purchasing  fund  to  the  best  ad 
vantage,  aiding  him  to  economize  by  turning  over 
to  him  some  old  implements  cast  aside  on  his  own 
place  to  make  room  for  newer  patents,  but  which 
were  still  in  good  condition.  He  also  solved  one  of 
their  perplexities  by  offering  them  the  use  of  a  fal 
low  cow,  in  return  for  her  pasturage,  until  their 
own  animal  should  be  old  enough  to  supply  them 
with  milk.  He  advised  him  to  put  the  upper  por 
tion  of  his  level  land  into  early  peas,  in  order  to 
get  returns  on  a  winter's  crop. 

"How  many  rows  of  peas,  two  hundred  feet 
long,  do  you  think  you  and  your  brother  could 
plant,  and  keep  well  hoed,  between  now  and  next 
February  ?  "  asked  the  old  gentleman. 

"  About  three  hundred,"  returned  Ned,  after  a 
little  reflection. 


72  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Then  try  a  hundred  and  fifty.  That  will  be 
one  half.  With  some  boys  I  should  have  advised 
only  one  third  or  one  fourth,  but  I  think  you  have 
a  fair  degree  of  prudence,  and  would  not  be  likely 
to  estimate  your  strength  or  capability  at  more  than 
double  their  worth." 

Despite  Ned's  shy  protestations,  Mr.  Abbott  took 
him  at  noon  to  a  cozy  little  dining-room,  where  a 
bountiful  meal  was  spread,  and  where  he  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  beautiful  old  lady,  as  bright  and 
quaint  in  her  way  as  Mr.  Abbott  was  in  his.  At 
the  table  all  business  topics  were  dropped,  and 
while  host  and  hostess  showed  a  gentle  solicitude 
for  the  comfort  of  their  young  guest,  the  conversa 
tion  ran  on  larger  themes,  and  Ned  found  himself 
listening  to  an  intelligent,  broad-minded  discussion 
of  the  great  world's  affairs,  which  lifted  him  into  a 
new  plane  of  thought  and  feeling.  Inexperienced 
as  he  was  in  many  ways,  intuition  taught  him  that 
the  engravings  on  the  wall,  the  books  distributed 
about,  were  products  of  the  world's  master  minds, 
and  made  a  fit  setting  for  these  two  gentle  and 
cultured  old  people,  the  types  of  many  more,  dis 
tributed  throughout  town  and  country,  who  are  in 
sensibly  moulding  the  destiny  of  California. 

The  road  Ned  took  on  his  way  over  the  hills 
followed  the  edge  of  the  valley,  along  the  line  of 
the  foothills,  which  were  everywhere  fringed  with 
beautiful  farms,  the  vineyards  and  grain  fields  in 
some  instances  extending  far  up  the  hill  slopes. 

At  length  his  course  turned  directly  toward  the 


A  BUSY  DAY.  73 

Range,  following  the  bank  of  a  deep  ravine,  along 
whose  bed  a  tiny  mountain  stream  glanced  and 
sparkled.  Steep  as  the  road  was  in  places,  it  was 
as  finely  macadamized  as  the  drives  in  Golden  Gate 
Park.  It  soon  passed  the  first  line  of  hills,  but 
Ned  found  that  what  had  from  the  valley  looked 
like  a  single  row  of  peaks  was  in  reality  but  one  of 
an  extensive  system. 

The  road  dipped  into  slight  depressions,  only  to 
rise  again  and  again  to  bleaker  heights.  In  many 
of  these  sheltered  mountain  benches  little  farm 
houses  were  standing,  and  now  and  then  a  goodly 
patch  of  vineyard  or  a  bit  of  thriving  orchard  bore 
witness  to  the  enterprise  of  the  settlers,  and  stood 
as  a  smiling  prediction  of  the  future ;  but  oftener 
the  heights  were  barren  and  desolate,  and  the 
ground  was  honeycombed  by  ground  squirrels, 
thousands  of  which  stood  like  mimic  sentinels  be 
fore  the  entrances  to  their  underground  abodes. 
Once  a  coyote  came  out  upon  a  bleak  and  wind 
swept  ledge,  and  grimly  surveyed  the  boy.  At 
length  the  summit  of  the  range  was  reached,  and 
the  road  began  to  descend,  by  easy  gradations,  to 
the  level  of  the  valley  beyond. 

It  was  a  long  and  toilsome  journey,  but  it  afforded 
the  boy  what  he  most  needed  :  time  to  think. 

The  events  of  the  past  few  weeks  had  crowded  so 
closely  upon  each  other  that  he  had  been  forced  to 
act  promptly,  and  frequently  with  little  delibera 
tion.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  began  to 
forecast  the  future,  and  prepared  himself  to  face 


74  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

the  inevitable  disappointments  that  must  come  in 
the  new  life.  He  foresaw  that  he  would  often  be 
tired  and  discouraged,  and  that  his  burden  of  re 
sponsibility  would  press  heavily  upon  him.  He 
knew  that  he  should  miss  the  stimulus  of  school 
life,  the  sharp  competition,  the  pleasures  of  com 
panionship  with  other  boys  of  his  age;  he  knew 
that  Martin,  two  years  younger  than  he,  younger 
still  by  force  of  natural  temperament,  would  often 
weary  and  irritate  him.  Martin  did  not  like  work. 
He  was  heedless,  impracticable,  visionary.  Yet 
this  was  the  sort  of  life  to  school  him  into  regular 
and  industrious  habits,  —  if  only  Martin  could  be 
schooled. 

And  Hope.  Gentle  little  Hope !  It  would  be 
a  lonely  life  for  her,  and  a  wearing  one.  What  if 
she  should  break  down  and  fade  out  of  life,  as  their 
mother  had  done  ?  How  vigilantly  they  must  watch 
to  spare  her  undue  labor ;  what  zealous  guard  must 
he  keep  over  his  own  anxieties,  to  prevent  her  life 
from  being  overcast  by  them  ! 

Following  the  directions  of  some  people  he  met, 
he  turned  into  an  old  road  which  soon  dwindled 
into  a  mere  bridle  path.  After  following  this  for  a 
mile  or  more,  the  boy  suddenly  stopped  short,  and 
gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

A  turn  in  the  path  brought  into  sight  a  spectacle 
so  at  variance  with  all  the  landscape  that  for  a  mo 
ment  he  was  tempted  to  rub  his  eyes,  and  question 
whether  he  were  not  dreaming. 

All  of  the  ranches  he  had  hitherto  seen  bore 


A  BUSY  DAY.  75 

some  evidences  of  thrift  and  comfort.  Even  the 
swarthy  little  Portuguese  children,  short  of  skirt 
and  bare  of  limb,  were  tidily  clad  and  bore  them 
selves  with  an  air  of  self-respecting  reserve,  as  if 
the  tiniest  among  them  had  some  part  in  the  great 
plan  of  life,  if  only  to  oil  the  wheels  that  other 
people  made  go  round. 

Before  him  was  a  dilapidated  shanty,  looking 
more  as  if  it  belonged  to  the  dingiest  portion  of  Tar 
Flat  in  San  Francisco  than  to  pure,  vitalizing  coun 
try  air.  Broken  window-panes  were  stuffed  with 
gunny -sacks  and  castaway  clothing.  Unpainted 
and  decaying,  the  battens  that  originally  covered 
the  seams  between  the  boards  had  been  splintered 
off  in  places,  revealing  wide  cracks,  through  which 
an  inquisitive  eye  might  have  searched  the  whole 
interior.  There  was  no  attempt  at  a  garden,  front 
or  rear,  save  one  small  patch,  a  few  rods  from  the 
house,  where  some  sickly-looking  cabbage  plants 
strained  upwards  for  a  glimpse  of  light,  inclosed 
by  a  miniature  rail  fence.  A  great  boy  sat  astride 
the  upper  rail,  gun  in  hand,  his  eyes  intently  fixed 
upon  some  object  invisible  to  Ned,  while  a  smaller 
boy  crouched  a  little  distance  away. 

In  the  doorway  of  the  shanty  there  sat  a  slat 
ternly  woman,  a  soiled  gingham  sunbonnet  pushed 
back  from  her  forehead,  and  a  clay  pipe  between 
her  lips.  Around  her  sprawled  several  more  chil 
dren  of  the  same  type,  their  hair  unkempt,  their 
faces  obscured  with  dirt. 

"  Good-afternoon,  ma'am,"  said  Ned  politely. 


76  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Af t'noon,"  responded  the  woman  indifferently, 
without  removing  the  pipe  from  her  mouth,  while 
her  hand,  from  force  of  habit,  sought  the  front  of 
her  dress  waist  and  endeavored  to  supply  the  lack 
of  buttons. 

"Can  you  tell  me  the  way  to  the  McCrary 
ranch?"  asked  Ned. 

The  woman  took  the  pipe  from  her  mouth,  and 
eyed  him  with  a  look  of  cunning  suspicion. 

"Be  yees  afther  the  road  tax?"  she  asked 
sharply. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  answered  Ned,  smiling. 

"Ner  the  poll  tax?" 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  An  yees  ain't  sint  by  the  assissor  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  ma'am.  I  'm  quite  a  stranger  here. 
We  have  taken  up  the  claim  down  opposite  Dr. 
John's." 

The  woman's  face  relaxed  as  if  by  magic.  A 
look  of  genuine  kindliness  came  into  her  homely 
face. 

"  Wan  of  thim  pore  boys !  Come  in  an'  set  yer- 
silf  down,  an'  have  a  glass  of  milk.  Yees  must  be 
clane  tired  out,  wid  ridin'  so  far." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  thank  you,"  returned  Ned,  to  whom 
the  prospect  of  the  glass  of  milk  did  not  appear 
half  as  attractive  as  it  might  have,  if  her  hands  and 
surroundings  had  been  cleaner,  and  there  had  been 
no  pipe.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  I  'm  in  quite  a  hurry 
to  reach  home  before  sundown.  I  wanted  to  see 
about  some  chickens.  Mr.  Abbott  said  he  thought 
you  might  have  some  laying  hens  to  sell." 


A  BUSY  DAY.  77 

"  Flinty  av  thim.  The  thrubble  ud  be  the  catch- 
in*  av  thim.  They're  all  over  the  ranch.  Lay 
off  in  the  chap'ral  iverywhere.  Jist  natrally  run 
wild ! " 

"Can  I  see  —  Mike?"  asked  Ned,  somewhat 
abashed  at  this  unpromising  outlook. 

"  'S  over  there,"  grunted  the  woman,  who  had 
settled  back  to  her  pipe  and  was  lazily  puffing 
away. 

She  pointed  in  the  direction  of  the  cabbage  patch. 
Ned  tied  his  horse  to  a  maimed  oak-tree  near  the 
door,  a  considerable  portion  of  which  had  been 
hacked  away  for  the  purpose  of  firewood,  and 
walked  quietly  toward  the  two  boys.  As  he  was 
almost  upon  them  the  younger  put  up  his  hand  in 
warning,  but  it  was  too  late. 

"  Now  you  've  done  it ! "  he  cried,  addressing 
Ned. 

"  Done  what  ?  "  demanded  Ned,  in  astonishment. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  replied  the  elder  boy,  lifting  his 
gun  to  his  shoulder  with  a  disappointed  air,  then 
rising  and  stretching  out  his  long  limbs,  lifting  a 
torn  straw  hat  from  his  head  and  thereby  revealing 
a  good-natured  and  somewhat  comely  face,  with 
curling,  reddish  hair,  and  frank  blue  eyes. 

"  It 's  nothing,"  he  explained,  in  amiable  resigna 
tion,  albeit  there  was  a  touch  of  irony  in  his  tone, 
"  only  I  'd  been  after  that  gopher  all  day  yisterday 
an'  since  sun-up  this  morning,  an'  —  I  jist  had 
him !  Another  second,  sir,  an'  I  'd  'a'  popped  him 
over ! " 


78  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  What  had  he  done  ?  "  asked  Ned. 

"  Done  ?  He  was  a  gopher.  You  bet  he  '11  do 
enough.  He 's  got  his  eye  on  those  cabbages." 

Ned  thought  to  himself  that  if  some  one  else 
would  have  an  eye  to  the  cabbages,  the  cabbages 
would  be  none  the  worse  for  it.  The  poor  plants 
were  wretched  starvelings,  choked  out  by  tall  weeds 
that  pressed  upon  them  from  every  side.  He  could 
not  resist  reaching  over  the  rude  fence  and  freeing 
one  of  the  poor  plants  from  the  enemies  that  encom 
passed  it.  Mike  McCrary  watched  the  action  in 
dumb  surprise. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you  about  some  chickens,"  ex 
plained  Ned  pleasantly ;  "  though  now  that  I  have 
spoiled  your  sport,  I  don't  know  that  you  will  want 
to  accommodate  me.  I  'd  like  to  get  a  dozen  laying 
hens." 

"  What  '11  you  give  ?  "  asked  Mike  McCrary* 

"  Would  five  dollars  be  enough? " 

Mike  scowled  reflectively. 

"  It 's  a  sight  of  trouble  to  chase  'em  through  the 
chap'ral,  or  hunt  'em  up  in  the  trees  at  night.  But 
I  'm  out  o'  caps  an'  powder.  Blissed  if  I  don't  do 
it !  When  you  want  'ern  ?  Come  after  'em  yer- 
silf?" 

"  If  you  say  so,"  returned  Ned  seriously.  "  We  're 
your  new  neighbors.  We  've  taken  up  the  claim 
down  by  The  Brook." 

"  No !  One  of  thim  lunatics  ?  Let  me  have  a 
good  squint  at  yer,"  ejaculated  Mike,  with  a  look 
of  mingled  contempt  and  humor. 


A  BUSY  DAY.  79 

Ignorant  of  his  meaning,  Ned  returned  his  gaze 
with  serious  dignity. 

"What  possessed  yer,  anyhow?"  pursued  Mike. 
"  They  say  yer  goin'  to  farm  it.  Don't  yer  know 
farmin'  means  —  work  ?  " 

He  pronounced  the  last  word  in  a  tone  expres 
sive  of  such  horror  and  aversion  that  Ned  laughed 
outright. 

"  Work  ?  "  he  said.  "  Why,  that 's  just  what  we 
came  up  here  for.  The  more  the  better.  I  like 
work." 

Mike  McCrary  had  doubtless  heard  the  philoso 
phy  of  work  preached  more  than  once  in  his  life, 
but  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  heard  it  pro 
claimed  with  honest  sincerity  by  one  of  his  own 
age,  who  turned  theory  into  practice. 

"  Jiminy  !  "  was  all  he  said. 

He  accompanied  Ned  to  the  bluff,  to  point  out 
to  him  the  steep  and  narrow  trail  that  would  take 
him  home. 

u  I  '11  bring  down  the  chickens  myself,"  he  said 
awkwardly,  as  they  parted.  "  I  'd  like  to  have  a 
good  look  at  you  fellers  that  like  work !  " 


CHAPTER  XL 

A   HOME   AND   THREE   PATRIOTS. 

As  he  came  in  sight  of  the  low  cottage,  nestling 
in  the  hollow  of  the  hills,  Ned  felt  a  sensation  he 
had  never  known  before.  For  the  first  time  he 
understood  a  sentence  he  had  once  heard  fall  from 
the  lips  of  an  orator  of  national  repute. 

"  The  home  makes  the  patriot.  No  man  ever 
shouldered  a  musket  in  defense  of  a  hoarding- 
housed 

"  Or  a  tenement  house  either,"  thought  the  boy. 
The  shabby  little  dwelling  toward  which  he  was 
now  going  was  no  longer  mean  or  shabby  in  his 
eyes.  It  was  exalted  by  the  glory  of  possession. 
He  did  not  see  the  battered  walls,  the  cracked  win 
dows,  the  clumsy  doors.  No  palace,  to  which  other 
people  held  the  title-deeds,  could  be  half  so  beauti 
ful  to  him. 

Hope  ran  out  to  meet  him  when  she  saw  him 
coming.  She  led  him  to  the  front  door,  and 
laughed  aloud  in  delight  at  his  exclamation  of 
pleasure  and  surprise.  The  large  room  had  been 
thoroughly  cleaned,  and  the  redwood  boards  with 
which  it  was  ceiled  lent  a  rich  and  effective  back 
ground  for  the  knickknacks,  bunches  of  dried 


A  HOME  AND  THREE  PATRIOTS.  81 

grasses,  and  richly  tinted  leaves  that  were  arranged 
upon  the  walls.  Halfway  up  the  chimney  breast, 
Martin  had  suspended  some  hanging  shelves  of 
redwood  that  they  had  brought  with  them,  and 
upon  these  stood  a  glass  filled  with  pink  roses, 
whose  perfume  filled  the  room.  The  only  carpet 
they  had  brought  with  them,  a  crimson  ingrain,  was 
tacked  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  Hope  had  fes 
tooned  some  dotted  Swiss  muslin  above  the  win 
dows,  catching  it  up  with  cypress  boughs,  while  the 
Madras  curtains  that  had  hung  at  her  own  window 
were  strung  across  one  corner  of  the  room,  to  shut 
the  boys'  bed  off  from  sight.  A  little  stand  covered 
with  books,  the  crimson-covered  lounge,  and  a 
couple  of  chairs  completed  the  furniture  of  the 
room  ;  but,  bare  as  it  was,  it  had  an  air  of  comfort 
and  of  cheer,  often  lacking  in  elegantly  furnished 
parlors. 

In  Hope's  own  little  room  adjoining,  after  much 
thoughtful  consideration,  they  had  put  the  pretty 
set  of  bedroom  furniture  that  had  been  their  pa 
rents',  and  with  which  they  could  not  bear  to  part. 
Hope's  own  little  bed  was  dislocated  and  stood  up 
in  one  corner  of  the  room. 

The  stuffy,  untidy  kitchen  was  stuffy  and  untidy 
no  longer.  The  walks  had  been  brushed  down,  the 
floor  scrubbed,  and  all  the  unpleasant  reminders  of 
former  occupancy  removed.  Nails  had  been  driven 
along  the  walls,  and  various  shining  utensils  hung 
upon  them,  while  at  one  side  were  a  couple  of  neat 
shelves,  the  product  of  Martin's  genius.  It  was  a 


82  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

little  crowded,  it  is  true,  and  there  was  no  room  for 
the  kitchen  safe  they  had  brought,  which  had  been 
placed  outside  the  door. 

Ned  therefore  resolved  to  contrive  a  pantry  for 
the  little  housewife's  comfort.  With  Dr.  John's 
cooperation,  he  procured  the  necessary  lumber,  and 
built  a  rough  but  airy  and  water-tight  addition  to 
the  kitchen,  placing  it  in  the  angle  between  the 
shed  and  the  main  portion  of  the  house,  where  it 
was  only  necessary  to  build  two  walls,  a  floor,  and 
a  roof,  to  make  the  small  room  complete.  When 
he  had  finished  the  pantry  he  moved  in  the  meal- 
chest,  and  arranged  all  the  utensils  and  materials 
commonly  used  in  cooking,  so  that  the  young  cook 
could  prepare  a  dish  for  the  oven  without  taking 
unnecessary  steps. 

Hope  watched  these  arrangements  with  admiring 
surprise. 

"  Women  and  girls  can  do  things  pretty  well, 
but  I  believe  it  takes  men  and  boys  to  plan  for 
them,"  she  said. 

While  Ned  was  at  work  on  the  pantry,  Martin 
completed  a  rough  chicken  -  house  which  they  had 
both  framed  together.  These  tasks  completed,  the 
serious  work  of  the  season  commenced. 

"  Upon  my  word,  boys,  this  begins  to  look  home 
like,"  said  Dr.  John,  coming  up  by  The  Brook  path 
a  few  weeks  later. 

The  tall  growth  of  weeds  extending  from  the 
house  to  the  water  had  been  cleared  away,  leaving 
only  a  short,  dry  stubble,  that  would  readily  yield 


A  HOME  AND  THREE  PATRIOTS.  83 

to  the  plough  when  the  ground  should  be  soaked 
by  rain.  The  broken  panes  of  glass  had  been  re 
placed,  and  the  roses  that  en  wreathed  the  cottage 
had  been  neatly  trimmed,  while  some  slips  that 
Hope  brought  from  the  city  were  thriving  in  the 
true  "  leaf  mould,"  so  dear  to  the  professional 
florist. 

"  The  place  begins  to  look  as  if  it  belonged  to 
somebody,"  asserted  the  doctor.  "  You  ought  to 
christen  it." 

"I  think  it  should  be  Home  Ranch,"  said  a 
gentle  voice,  and  Hope  stood  beside  them. 

So  Home  Ranch  it  became  from  that  day,  and  if 
anything  could  have  made  the  little  nook  dearer  to 
its  occupants,  it  would  have  been  because  it  bore 
this  suggestive  name. 

"We  shall  have  rain  soon,"  said  Dr.  John. 
"  Better  get  in  all  your  supplies,  boys,  and  make 
ready  for  a  siege." 

"  Oh,  this  is  only  a  fog,"  said  Martin. 

"  When  a  fog  broods  over  the  earth  day  after 
day,  at  this  time  of  year,  it  generally  means  busi 
ness,"  said  the  doctor  pleasantly,  for  it  was  late  in 
October.  "  Look  off  across  the  valley,  and  see 
how  distinct  and  near  at  hand  appear  the  church 
spires  of  that  little  village  six  miles  away.  This 
clarified  atmosphere  means  rain." 

The  doctor  was  right,  and  by  nightfall  a  light 
rain  was  falling.  Softly  and  steadily  it  fell,  — 
"  Heaven-sent  dew,"  as  Ned  called  it ;  and  the 
parched  earth  absorbed  it  greedily,  while  all  vege- 


84  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

tation,  including,  alas  !  even  the  weeds,  seemed  to 
revive  beneath  it. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  they  awoke  to 
find  the  land  bathed  in  sunshine.  Ned  gave  his 
sleeping  brother  a  vigorous  shake. 

"  Get  up,  Martin.     We  must  plough  to-day." 

Do  you  know  what  is  meant  by  virgin  soil  ?  It 
means  soil  that  has  been  garnering  up  its  wealth 
from  time  immemorial ;  soil  that  has  never  been 
robbed  or  impoverished  by  the  hand  of  man. 
Since  the  world  began,  every  blade  that  has  burst 
its  sheath,  every  leaf  and  flower  that  have  un 
folded,  has  returned  again  to  Mother  Earth,  to 
gladden  and  enrich  her.  Scoop  up  a  handful  of 
it :  no  hard  crusts  or  heavy  clods  here  ;  it  crum 
bles  at  the  touch.  Press  it  with  your  foot :  it 
yields  like  a  sponge,  but  never  packs.  Smell  of 
it:  it  has  an  invigorating  perfume.  There  is  a 
suggestion  of  life  and  of  life-giving  power  in  its 
very  color,  that  warm,  purplish  tinge,  fading  to 
amethyst  in  the  sunlight. 

In  such  soil  the  boys  had  their  first  experience 
in  driving  the  plough,  and  for  a  time  the  delight 
intoxicated  them ;  but  it  was  not  long  before  their 
untried  muscles  called  for  a  rest.  Ned  was  too 
plucky  to  abandon  work  altogether,  and  he  in 
sisted  upon  harrowing  the  patch  they  had  ploughed, 
and  then  running  their  lines  and  dropping  the  peas 
in  the  small  furrows,  covering  them  with  the  hoe 
as  fast  as  a  line  was  finished. 

It  is  very  simple  and  easy  in  the  telling ;  but  it 


A  HOME  AND  THREE  PATRIOTS.  85 

took  both  of  the  boys  until  sundown  to  plough  and 
harrow  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  acre  of  ground, 
and  then  to  plant  it  in  peas.  They  were  so  tired 
and  stiff  when  they  were  through  that  it  was  hard 
to  attend  to  their  accustomed  chores  before  going 
to  bed ;  but  sleep,  the  true  elixir  of  life,  restored 
them,  and  they  awoke  the  next  morning  with  re 
newed  strength. 

"  I  'm  so  tired  and  sore,  I  'd  like  to  lie  down  and 
not  get  up  again  for  a  month,"  groaned  Martin,  a 
couple  of  weeks  later,  when  the  peas  were  all  in. 

Weary  as  they  were,  they  dared  not  rest.  They 
had  to  lay  in  a  winter's  store  of  firewood,  and  the 
ground  in  the  old  orchard  needed  to  be  ploughed. 
Meanwhile,  the  peas  came  up  and  grew  apace  ;  but 
the  weeds,  too,  answered  the  muster  call,  and  it 
became  necessary  to  wage  war  upon  them. 

The  young  people  found,  to  their  delight,  that 
the  early  rains  only  served  to  swell  the  volume  and 
increase  the  current  of  The  Brook  for  a  few  days, 
after  which  the  stream  subsided,  and  was  easily 
crossed  with  the  raft.  The  boys  came  and  went 
freely  between  Home  Ranch  and  the  village,  but 
little  Hope  never  dared  trust  herself  to  the  raft  a 
second  time. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  MYSTERIOUS   JOURNEY. 

"  MARTIN,  don't  you  want  to  take  a  ride  with 
me  to-morrow  ?  "  asked  Dr.  John  one  day  early  in 
December. 

"  I  '11  be  very  glad  to,  sir,"  and  the  boy's  eyes 
sparkled  with  anticipation. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Dr.  John,  "  be  on  hand  early 
in  the  morning,  say  seven  o'clock,  and  prepare  to 
be  away  the  whole  forenoon." 

"  Is  it  somebody  very  sick,  or  far  away  ?  " 

"Eh?  Oh,  yes.  A  good  ways  off,"  replied  the 
doctor,  who  seemed  to  be  unaccountedly  embar 
rassed  by  the  simple  question. 

Martin  had  read  several  stories  of  detective  ex 
perience,  and,  like  many  boys  of  his  age,  had  con 
ceived  the  idea  that  he  would  have  great  talent  for 
the  profession.  He  had  determined  to  cultivate  a 
habit  of  perpetual  watchfulness  in  every-day  life, 
and  to  permit  no  suspicious  detail  to  escape  him. 

He  did  not  wish  to  believe  evil  of  a  man  who 
had  proved  himself  in  so  many  ways  their  faithful 
and  unselfish  friend,  yet  he  had  never  been  able  to 
wholly  dismiss  from  his  mind  the  schoolmaster's 
dark  and  significant  allusion.  Dr.  John's  singular 


A  MYSTERIOUS  JOURNEY.  87 

hesitation  and  confusion  impressed  the  boy,  and  he 
looked  forward  to  the  morrow  with  a  curiosity  not 
unmixed  with  dread. 

Martin  was  on  hand  bright  and  early  the  next 
morning,  as  he  had  promised.  The  doctor  drove 
directly  to  the  station,  and  then  turned  northward 
on  a  road  that  ran  parallel  with  the  railroad  track 
over  which  they  had  come  from  the  city.  Martin 
thought  the  doctor  must  be  going  to  the  next  vil 
lage,  but  when  the  next  village  and  the  next  were 
passed,  he  began  to  see  that  Dr.  John  was  aiming 
for  some  distant  town. 

He  thought  he  understood  when  they  approached 
the  outskirts  of  Oakland.  So  the  doctor's  patient 
lived  there,  and  must  be  some  rich  person  to  afford 
to  call  a  physician  from  such  a  distance.  But  why 
should  Dr.  John  make  such  a  mystery  about  it? 
Why  should  he  be  so  strangely  morose,  scarcely 
heeding  the  boy's  innocent  questions,  called  forth 
by  sights  along  their  route,  until  the  young  fellow 
subsided  into  a  hurt  silence  ?  Why  should  he  drive 
directly  into  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  draw  up  on 
a  business  street,  a  few  doors  away  from  one  of  the 
large  banks  ? 

"  Now,  Martin,"  he  said,  producing  a  small  bag 
of  specie,  "  I  want  you  to  do  a  little  business  for 
me.  You  see  that  bank  over  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Take  this  money  and  say  that  Richard  Roe,  or 
George  Smith,  or  anybody  you  please,  so  that  it  is 
not  my  name,  deposits  it.  Ask  for  a  draft  made 


88  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

out  in  the  name  of  E.  F.  Sherwood,  of  Philadelphia. 
Be  very  careful  about  that  last  name.  Better 
write  it  down.  Have  you  a  bit  of  paper  and  a  pen 
cil  ?  Here,  take  mine." 

Martin  wrote  the  name  with  care,  and  awaited 
further  instructions. 

"  Be  sure  not  to  have  anything  to  say  to  any  one, 
aside  from  what  I  have  told  you.  If  they  ask  you 
anything  more,  tell  them  you  don't  know.  Get  out 
again  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  bring  the  draft  to 
me." 

With  a  sinking  heart  Martin  took  the  bag  in  nis 
hands.  At  last  he  understood  the  meaning  of  the 
mysterious  journey.  The  doctor  was  launched  in 
a  career  of  crime,  and  he,  Martin,  was  to  be  his 
accomplice.  For  one  moment  the  boy  had  a  wild 
thought  of  refusing  to  be  involved  in  any  such  vil 
lainous  scheme,  but  he  looked  in  the  doctor's  eye, 
and  felt  himself  under  its  power. 

The  bag  was  heavier  than  it  looked.  It  con 
tained  considerably  more  money  than  he  had  ever 
before  handled ;  yet  he  could  feel  no  pride  in  touch 
ing  it,  and  he  went  up  the  steps  of  the  building 
with  his  head  hanging  and  shame  in  his  heart. 

Martin  had  no  experience  of  banking  laws,  and 
was  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  the  precise  relation  of 
the  money  to  the  paper  he  was  to  get ;  but  he  knew 
enough  of  life  to  be  fully  aware  that  when  a  man 
acts  in  secret,  it  is  because  he  has  something  dis 
graceful  to  conceal. 

He  looked  so  downcast  and  guilty  when  he  pre- 


A  MYSTERIOUS  JOURNEY.  89 

sented  himself  at  the  desk  of  the  receiving  teller 
that  the  official  regarded  him  with  rank  suspicion, 
and  examined  the  coins  minutely,  to  assure  himself 
they  were  not  counterfeit.  Martin  would  not  have 
been  surprised  at  any  moment  to  find  himself  taken 
into  legal  custody,  and  marched  off  to  the  city 
prison. 

He  was  greatly  relieved  when  he  got  safely  back 
to  Dr.  John,  and  handed  him  the  paper.  Dr.  John, 
too,  was  manifestly  lighter  of  heart,  and  spoke  up 
quite  like  his  usual  self  :  — 

"  Now  I  want  to  drive  around  to  the  post-office, 
and  stop  there  a  moment,  and  then  we  will  go 
home." 

"  But  your  patient,  doctor, —  the  sick  person  you 
came  all  this  way  to  see !  " 

"  Oh,  I  think  the  sick  person  will  get  along  very 
well  to-day,"  answered  the  doctor  shamelessly. 

At  the  post-office  Martin  observed  that  the  doc 
tor  took  from  his  pocket  an  envelope,  bearing  an 
address  printed  with  a  typewriter,  inclosed  the 
draft,  and  mailed  it  in  the  usual  way. 

On  the  way  home  Martin's  head  was  in  a  whirl. 
Puzzle  as  he  might,  he  could  not  arrive  at  any 
theory  that  would  account  for  the  peculiar  facts. 
Yet  there  was  no  question  as  to  the  doctor's  guilt. 
The  doctor  himself  tacitly  admitted  it  when  they 
reached  their  starting-point,  and  drove  into  the 
shadows  of  his  home. 

"  Martin,"  he  said,  "  you  are  a  boy  who  can 
keep  a  secret,  are  you  not  ?  " 


90  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  returned  Martin  staunchly. 

"  I  thought  so.  I  shall  trust  you  never  to  say 
anything  about  our  ride  this  morning,  or  the  errand 
you  did  for  me." 

"  I  promise,  honor  bright,"  said  poor  Martin,  but 
it  was  with  a  heavy  heart. 


CHAPTEK  XIII. 

WINTER   ON  A  CALIFORNIA  RANCH. 

THANKSGIVING  and  Christmas  passed  with  little 
observance  at  Home  Ranch.  The  children's  hearts 
were  yet  too  sore  with  recent  sorrow  for  them  to 
take  thought  of  any  merry-making.  On  Christmas 
Day  Ned  went  down  to  the  city  alone  to  see  their 
father,  bearing  such  simple  remembrances  as  they 
were  able  to  send ;  but  the  lad  met  with  a  rebuff 
from  one  of  the  physicians  at  the  hospital,  who  fan 
cied  that  he  saw  in  the  father's  natural  emotion  at 
seeing  one  of  the  children  from  whom  he  had  been 
so  long  separated,  the  tokens  of  an  excitement  that 
might  be  injurious  to  his  patient. 

The  day  after  New  Year's,  Hope  sat  on  a  low 
block  outside  of  the  kitchen  door,  patiently  turning 
a  crank  attached  to  a  large  wooden  contrivance, 
shaped  very  much  like  an  ancient  Pompeiian  jug. 
She  was  listening  intently  to  the  sound  of  some 
thing  splashing  about  inside. 

Hope's  churning  was  a  profound  and  mysterious 
rite,  and  the  boys  were  not  allowed  to  approach  or 
to  speak  to  her  during  the  process,  for  she  had  a 
theory  that  if  she  was  interrupted  for  a  moment 
the  butter  would  "  go  back,"  and  the  cream  relapse 
into  its  original  liquid  State. 


92  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

The  boys'  milking,  as  well  as  Hope's  butter-mak 
ing,  had  been  studied  up  from  a  little  agricultural 
manual  that  Ned  had  picked  up  at  a  second-hand 
bookstand,  before  they  left  the  city. 

This  treatise,  written  by  an  English  gentleman- 
farmer  and  printed  some  fifty  years  before,  dealt 
with  the  subject  in  a  tone  of  dignified  condescen 
sion,  and  abounded  in  high-sounding  phrases  and 
digressions  from  the  text,  which  would  delight  our 
agricultural  editors  of  to-day.  The  chapter  devoted 
to  the  milch  cow  began  as  follows  :  — 

"  The  genus  bos,  commonly  called  neat,  and  sometimes 
black  cattle,  stands  at  the  head  of  our  domestic  animals 
destined  for  the  use  and  food  of  man,  and  more  espe 
cially  for  that  precious  alimentary  production,  MILK,  of 
such  importance  in  rearing  our  children  and  adapted  to 
such  a  variety  of  other  family  purposes.  For  a  constant 
supply  of  this  invaluable  resource,  we  depend  on  the 
female  of  this  race,  the  harmless  and  docile  cow,  which 
is  compelled  to  produce  and  part  with  that  secretion,  in 
tended  by  nature  for  the  support  of  her  own  progeny." 

As  Hope  heard  the  watery  swash  which  an 
nounced  that  the  butter  had  "  come,"  she  turned 
with  an  expression  of  dismay  to  a  little  clock  hang 
ing  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  she  said  aloud.  "  Only  seven 
minutes  again." 

"And  who  is  it  bewailing  seven  minutes  lost?" 
called  out  a  cheery  voice,  and  Dr.  John  came 
around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

"  It  is  n't  exactly  seven  minutes   lost,  doctor," 


WINTER  ON  A  CALIFORNIA  EANCH.          93 

replied  Hope  seriously ;  "  but  I  can't  seem  to  keep 
the  butter  back  till  the  proper  time." 

"  And,  pray,  what  is  the  proper  time  ?  "  asked 
the  doctor  mystified. 

"The  time  in  the  book,"  explained  Hope,  point 
ing  to  the  book  lying  open  beside  the  churn.  Dr. 
John  took  it  up  and  read  the  paragraph  to  which 
she  pointed  :  — 

" 4  Butter  which  comes  too  quickly  is  not  likely 
to  be  good,  nor  ought  any  to  come,  indeed,  under 
an  hour's  labour.'  Why,  what  sort  of  a  book  is 
this?"  demanded  the  doctor,  turning  over  the 
leaves.  "  Listen  to  this  advice  :  '  It  is  recom 
mended  to  confine  the  hinder  legs  of  a  cow,  whilst 
milking,  as  well  as  the  head,  the  former  of  which 
is  most  securely  effected  by  two  stumps  of  wood 
fixed  in  the  ground,  to  which  the  hinder  legs  may 
be  strapped.'  I  should  like  to  see  a  California  cow 
submit  to  such  an  indignity." 

"  She  does  n't  submit.  She  acts  awfully.  She 
kicks,  and  lashes  her  tail,  and  tumbles  over,  and 
holds  back  her  milk,  and  tries  to  hook.  Ned  has 
an  awful  time  whenever  he  milks  her,"  explained 
Hope. 

"  So  Ned  is  trying  it  ?  "  cried  Dr.  John,  making 
a  severe  effort  to  compose  his  face,  but  unable  to 
subdue  the  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  I  shall  have 
to  tell  the  boys  not  to  go  by  all  the  advice  they  find 
in  books.  And  don't  worry  about  the  butter  if  it 
chooses  to  come  at  the  first  turn  of  the  crank.  But 
what  has  this  to  do  with  cows?  "  and  looking  further 


94  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

on,  in  the  same  chapter,  the  doctor  read  as  fol 
lows  :  — 

"  4  In  years  past  I  had  a  fine  cat,  which  we 
named  Bonaparte,  and  which  we  suffered  to  retain 
that  splendid  name,  until  his  godfather  became  an 
apostate  and  a  tyrant.'  Why,  Ned,"  he  said,  as 
the  boy  came  in,  "  this  book  is  a  regular  curiosity  : 
worth  its  weight  in  gold  to  some  of  our  biblio 
maniacs.  But  don't  try  to  farm  by  it." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  any  longer,"  answered  Ned. 
"We  have  something  better  now.  Mr.  Eoberts 
has  sent  us  a  complete  set  of  the Encyclope 
dia." 

"  Indeed,"  exclaimed  Dr.  John,  his  eyes  bright 
ening.  "  That  is  a  gift  worth  having.  I  came  over 
intending  to  make  a  little  contribution  to  your  read 
ing  matter  myself.  I  have  a  morning  and  an  even 
ing  paper  daily,  an  illustrated  weekly  or  so,  and 
several  magazines  every  month.  Suppose  I  send 
over  to  you  all  that  has  accumulated  at  the  end  of 
every  week.  Of  course  they  won't  be  very  fresh, 
but  they  will  help  you  to  keep  up  with  the  world's 
news." 

"It  will  be  a  great  treat,"  said  Ned  heartily. 
"  I  'm  not  sure  but  it  will  be  much  better  for  us  not 
to  have  them  oftener.  Reading  is  such  a  tempta 
tion.  It  would  be  hard  to  go  about  our  work,  with 
a  fresh  newspaper  unread." 

Ned  was  thinking  of  Martin  rather  than  himself. 
The  doctor's  next  question  brought  back  to  him 
the  unhappy  memory  of  his  recent  experience. 


WINTER  ON  A  CALIFORNIA  RANCH.          95 

"  How  is  your  father,  Ned  ?  I  understand  you 
have  been  down  to  see  him." 

"  About  the  same,  sir,  I  should  judge.  I  don't 
know  when  any  of  us  will  see  him  again.  They 
don't  want  us  to  come  there." 

"  Don't  want  you  to  come  ?  "  repeated  Dr.  John, 
in  amazement. 

"  No,  sir.  The  doctor  there  thinks  it  does  him 
harm,  —  excites  him.  We  hoped  to  go  down  more, 
after  a  while.  It  must  be  so  tiresome  for  him, 
lying  there  day  after  day,  seeing  nobody  that  really 
cares  for  him." 

Dr.  John  said  nothing  by  way  of  comment,  but 
he  paced  up  and  down,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
doing  when  deeply  stirred,  with  his  lips  firmly  set 
and  a  stern  look  on  his  face.  At  length  he  stopped 
short,  with  an  air  of  cheerful  determination. 

"  I  see  just  one  way  out  of  it,"  he  said.  "  These 
hospital  authorities  are  very  arbitrary  sometimes, 
and  it  is  not  wise  to  defy  them.  But  I  know  a 
man  —  I  have  a  friend  who  will  go  to  see  your 
father  every  week,  and  carry  any  messages  you 
may  like  to  send,  and  bring  us  reports  of  his  condi 
tion." 

"  We  could  n't  ask  for  anything  better,"  declared 
Ned,  and  Martin's  look  of  relief  and  Hope's  bright 
eyes  confirmed  his  assertion. 

After  Dr.  John  left,  they  remembered  that  this 
was  the  first  time  they  had  seen  him  since  the  holi 
days.  They  wondered  if  he  had  been  away,  and 
how  he  had  spent  the  time.  Had  they  but  known 


96  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

it,  the  question  was  one  that  had  for  many  years 
puzzled  the  people  of  the  valley.  Genial  as  the 
doctor  was  in  his  relations  with  his  patients,  he 
always  declined  the  invitations  that  were  pressed 
upon  him  at  this  period  of  the  year,  and  on  Christ 
mas  Day  he  always  shut  himself  up  in  his  house, 
never  leaving  it  unless  in  obedience  to  some  urgent 
professional  summons. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Dr.  John  took  to 
church-going.  He  had  never  been  a  very  zealous 
attendant  at  divine  service  before,  having  quite  out 
raged  the  feelings  of  the  more  conservative  in  the 
community,  by  spending  the  hours  that  others  passed 
in  the  house  of  worship  at  the  bedside  of  sick  chil 
dren,  showing  them  pictures,  telling  them  stories, 
and  inventing  all  manner  of  amusements  for  them. 
Now  he  became  a  steady  church-goer,  and  rose  in 
public  estimation  accordingly,  although  he  did  not 
patronize  local  theology,  but  went  off  on  the  early 
Sunday  morning  train,  presumably  to  listen  to  the 
gospel  as  expounded  by  some  brilliant  Oakland  or 
San  Francisco  divine. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   HOPE   EXPRESS. 

DECEMBER  had  been  an  open  and  pleasant  month, 
made  up  of  warm  and  sunshiny  days,  interspersed 
with  a  few  light  showers.  The  California  climate, 
so  extravagantly  extolled  by  many,  so  unjustly  de 
nounced  by  a  few,  is  little  understood  even  by  those 
who  have  lived  under  it  the  better  portion  of  their 
lives. 

It  is  common  to  hear  old  Californians  boastfully 
declare  that  the  State  has  no  seasons,  whereas  each 
month  brings  its  varying  changes  as  surely  as  the 
year  comes  round.  In  the  city  the  skillful  garden 
er's  artifice  does  much  to  smooth  away  these  differ 
ences  and  to  make  all  months  alike ;  but  those  who 
live  in  the  country  know  that  California  has  her 
seasons,  clear  cut  and  well  defined  as  those  of  New 
England,  the  distinction  being  that  while  New 
England  boasts  of  four,  the  Golden  State  has  but 
three,  and  two  of  these,  spring  and  fall,  are  robbed 
of  much  their  harshness,  their  poetry  and  beauty 
alone  being  preserved. 

January  is  a  month  of  compromise  between  fall 
and  spring.  It  is  sure  to  bring  many  chilly,  wet, 
and  disagreeable  days.  Even  at  Home  Ranch  there 


98  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

were  nights  when  the  mercury  hovered  about  the 
freezing  point,  and  once  it  dropped  a  single  degree 
below,  but  Hope's  delicate  plants  were  uninjured, 
while  the  hardy  peas  seemed  to  grow  and  thrive  the 
better. 

In  the  intervals  between  the  rains,  the  boys  laid 
out  the  new  orchard  they  meant  to  plant,  and  dug 
holes  for  the  young  trees.  Meanwhile,  the  "  state 
of  siege  "  which  the  doctor  had  predicted  came  upon 
them  with  the  beginning  of  the  new  year.  After  a 
week  or  so  of  rainy  weather  the  stream  became  so 
swollen  that  it  spread  out  over  the  lowlands  along 
its  banks,  snatching  the  raft  from  its  moorings  and 
sweeping  it  down  the  stream.  Thereafter  they 
were  completely  cut  off  from  intercourse  with  all 
the  rest  of  the  world,  and  it  was  only  human  for 
the  three  children  to  feel  a  little  lonely,  and  to  look 
forward  yearningly  to  the  time  when  they  could 
have  communication  with  their  friends  again. 

With  the  beginning  of  February,  spring  burst 
suddenly  upon  them.  The  almond  trees  in  the 
orchard,  which  had  retained  their  fresh  green  foli 
age  until  Christmas,  expanded  into  a  radiance  of 
bloom. 

"  Martin,"  said  Ned  solemnly,  "  if  we  are  going 
to  prune  those  trees,  as  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Abbott 
advised  us,  we  must  n't  lose  another  day." 

"  All  right,"  said  Martin.  "  But  what  are  we  to 
do  the  pruning  with  ?  " 

True  enough.  They  had  neglected  to  provide 
themselves  with  pruning  shears,  knife,  or  saw. 


THE  ROPE  EXPRESS.  99 

"  We  '11  just  have  to  take  the  compass  saw  from 
our  tool  chest,  and  the  large  handsaw,  and  make 
our  jackknives  do  the  rest." 

So  the  two  set  to  work,  making  up  in  energy 
what  they  lacked  in  skill  and  experience. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  mean  to  do,  if  our  peas 
come  out  well,  as  they  give  every  promise  of  doing," 
announced  Ned  one  day,  as  he  lopped  off  a  huge 
peach  limb  and  flung  it  upon  a  pile  of  brush.  "  I  'm 
going  to  get  some  grape-vines,  and  set  them  out  in 
the  same  patch,  when  we  tear  up  the  pea-vines. 
The  ground  is  already  cultivated,  and  cuttings  are 
only  three  dollars  a  thousand.  We  can  plant  as 
many  as  we  have  time  to  put  in  before  April  is 
over." 

"  Good  !  "  approved  Martin.  "  I  should  like  to 
have  a  vineyard  of  our  own.  I  always  did  like 
grapes,  and  grape  pies,  and  grape  jelly  —  Why, 
Ned !  what 's  the  matter  ?  " 

Ned  had  suspended  his  work,  and  sat  weakly 
down  011  a  heap  of  brush,  gazing  moodily  before 
him. 

"  The  peas,"  he  explained.  "  Oh,  Martin !  why 
did  n't  we  think  of  it  before  ?  Why  did  n't  any 
body  think  of  it  for  us  ?  " 

"The  peas?"  repeated  Martin.  "What's  the 
matter  with  the  peas  ?  I  'm  sure  there 's  a  splen 
did  crop,  Ned.  I  was  looking  at  them  this  morn 
ing.  They  '11  be  ready  for  market  by  the  end  of 
this  month." 

"  How  are  we  going  to  get  them  to  market  ?  " 


100  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Martin  came  down  out  of  the  apricot-tree,  into 
which  he  had  climbed,  and  joined  his  brother  on 
the  brush  heap. 

"  Make  a  new  raft  ?  "  he  suggested. 

"  And  try  to  pole  it  a  hundred  feet  across  that 
boiling  torrent ! "  answered  Ned  disdainfully.  "  A 
boat  couldn't  live  in  it." 

"  Then  there 's  no  way  but  to  go  round  by  the 
hill  road." 

"  What  ?  Risk  our  horses'  necks  and  our  own, 
by  climbing  up  that  slippery  trail?  Let  down  a 
rope  and  grappling  iron  for  the  peas  after  getting 
ourselves  up  ;  then  crawl  around  the  hills  for  miles, 
carrying  a  single  sack  of  peas  to  the  station  ?  Oh, 
a  fine  condition  they  would  be  in,  by  the  time  they 
got  there,"  observed  Ned  ironically.  '"  I  don't  see 
any  way  out  of  it,  unless  the  doctor  can  help  us ; 
but  how  we  can  even  remind  him  of  the  plight 
we  're  in  is  more  than  I  can  see." 

Dr.  John  was  not  one  of  the  sort  of  people  who 
need  reminding.  For  days  he  had  been  thinking 
of  the  young  people's  situation,  and  trying  to  devise 
some  means  of  escape  from  it. 

That  very  afternoon  they  heard  a  faint  halloo 
above  the  roaring  of  the  waters,  and  running  down 
to  the  bank  of  the  stream,  found  Dr.  John  standing 
on  the  other  side,  with  a  coil  of  rope  beside  him, 
and  what  looked  like  a  large  bow  and  arrow  in  his 
hand. 

He  pointed  to  a  tall  sycamore  on  their  side  of 
The  Brook,  taking  aim  high  up  among  the  branches. 


THE  ROPE  E&PKLSS.  101 

As  he  let  the  arrow 'fly, '.a  slender;  edrd -trailed 
through  the  air  in  its  wake. .  The  arrow  fled 
through  the  sycamore,  but  the  cord  became  tangled 
in  the  boughs  and  arrested  its  progress.  They  saw 
it  dangling  there. 

The  doctor  waved  his  hand  in  the  direction  of 
the  arrow,  and  began  to  pay  out  string.  Ned 
obeyed  the  hint,  and  climbed  the  tree,  drawing  in 
the  cord.  A  length  of  heavy  twine  followed  the 
cord,  and  to  this  was  attached  some  stout  man  ilia 
rope,  which  brought  with  it  a  solid  iron  pulley, 
such  as  is  ordinarily  attached  to  hoisting  tackle. 
Martin  cried  out  in  delight,  as  he  saw  the  doctor's 
purpose.  Taking  advantage  of  two  great  syca 
mores,  which  stood  on  opposite  sides  of  the  stream, 
he  was  rigging  up  a  cord  and  pulley  for  conveying 
weights  across,  as  cables  are  sometimes  attached  to 
wrecked  vessels,  to  convey  passengers  and  valuables 
ashore. 

Soon  it  became  Ned's  turn  to  send  back  the  cord, 
that  the  rope  might  be  returned  to  the  other  side. 
With  a  boy's  ready  ingenuity  he  prepared  a  rude 
bow,  and,  after  a  little  bungling  archery,  sent  the 
arrow  successfully  across. 

The  pulleys  were  soon  secured  to  the  old  syca 
mores,  and  the  line  was  in  working  order. 

Martin,  who  had  quite  expected  to  see  Dr.  John 
himself  climb  into  a  great  hamper  and  make  the 
trip  across,  and  who  was  secretly  entertaining  great 
schemes  of  aerial  travel  for  his  own  amusement, 
was  somewhat  disappointed  to  see  a  small,  covered 


102  THtf  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

basket  "seci ired  to  the  rope  and  sent  across.  When 
opened,  it  proved  to 'be  fiiil  of  papers  and  maga 
zines,  with  a  note  to  Hope  on  top.  On  the  outside 
of  this  was  a  penciled  inquiry  addressed  to  the 
boys : — 

"How  soon  will  your  peas  be  ready  for  mar 
ket?" 

Ned  took  an  old  envelope  from  his  pocket,  and 
wrote :  — 

"  In  about  ten  days  or  two  weeks." 

When  Dr.  John  received  this  communication,  he 
filled  a  couple  of  leaves  from  his  notebook  with 
rapid  penciling  and  sent  them  across  the  stream. 
Both  boys  bent  eagerly  over  this  message. 

"  You  must  send  them  in  gunny  sacks,  packed 
full,  and  sewed  together  at  the  top  with  stout  twine. 
I  '11  see  that  you  get  the  sacks  the  last  of  this  week. 
Tie  a  card  to  each,  with  your  own  name  on  it,  and 
the  name  and  address  of  your  commission  firm. 
Get  them  down  here  every  day  at  half  past  five  in 
the  afternoon.  The  produce  train  goes  out  at  seven 
o'clock  every  night  except  Saturday.  I  '11  attend 
to  the  shipping." 

The  note  that  the  doctor  had  addressed  to  Hope 
read  as  follows :  — 

MY  DEAR  HOPE,  —  The  friend  of  whom.  I  spoke 
has  been  to  see  your  father  regularly  once  a  week 
and  will  continue  to  do  so.  There  is  no  change  in 
his  condition,  and  he  is  as  comfortable  as  he  can  be 
made.  Yours  obediently,  DR.  JOHN. 


THE  ROPE  EXPRESS.  103 

Two  weeks  later  the  boys  began  picking  peas. 
It  was  great  fun  at  first,  but  when  several  hours 
had  passed,  and  they  found  that  their  backs  were 
getting  tired  and  they  had  not  yet  half  a  sack  be 
tween  them,  they  were  almost  ready  to  give  up  in 
despair.  They  were  glad  enough  when  Hope  came 
to  their  aid,  although  Martin  was  sure  that  she 
could  never  stand  it  for  five  minutes.  When  they 
found  that  she  was  picking  nearly  as  many  peas  as 
both  of  them  together,  they  were  amazed,  and  Hope 
modestly  tried  to  explain  away  her  superior  skill 
by  attributing  it  to  the  fact  that  she  used  her  apron 
for  a  basket,  and  thereby  kept  both  hands  free  for 
picking.  But  ah !  the  little  fingers,  trained  al 
most  from  babyhood  to  a  thousand  and  one  house 
hold  tasks,  were  defter  and  quicker  than  the  boys' 
clumsy  hands,  hardened  now  by  rough  labor. 

Hope's  skill  among  the  pea-vines  resulted  in  a 
new  division  of  domestic  tasks,  for  the  little  maid, 
seeing  the  sun  high  in  the  heavens,  lamented  at  the 
thought  of  leaving  her  task  to  prepare  luncheon. 

"  Oh,  boys,  I  do  so  hate  to  leave  !  Could  n't  — 
wouldn't  one  of  you  just  put  the  things  on  the 
table?  There  is  nothing  to  be  cooked.  Every 
thing  is  ready  in  the  pantry." 

"  The  idea !  "  sputtered  Martin  indignantly. 

"  Martin,"  said  Ned  calmly,  "  this  is  a  question 
of  domestic  political  economy.  It 's  a  question  of 
relative  values.  If  Hope  is  worth  two  of  us  out 
here,  it  would  be  very  shallow  policy  for  us  to  re 
fuse  to  substitute  for  her  in  the  house.  I  pick 


104  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

faster  than  you,  old  fellow.  You  go  in  the  house 
and  get  lunch." 

Martin  laughed  good-naturedly  and  went  to  the 
house ;  and  as  Martin  was  a  boy  who  liked  to  excel 
in  everything  he  did,  he  revenged  himself  upon 
Hope  for  her  proficiency  in  picking  peas  by  out 
shining  her  in  his  arrangement  of  the  table. 

The  boys  had  the  good  fortune  to  get  their  peas  in 
among  the  earliest  in  the  market.  The  first  sacks 
sold  at  twelve  and  a  half  cents  a  pound,  and  the 
price  dropped  with  each  succeeding  shipment,  but 
they  picked  seventy-five  sacks  in  all,  and  when  they 
had  finished  they  found  that  the  venture  had  netted 
them  nearly  three  hundred  dollars,  a  sum  that  seemed 
,a  small  fortune  to  them. 

When  the  pea-vines  had  all  been  pulled  and 
stacked  for  fodder,  they  sent  to  the  nursery  for 
grape  cuttings,  and  planted  three  acres  in  vines. 
They  also  procured  the  almond  trees  they  had  de 
cided  to  plant  earlier  in  the  year,  and  for  which 
they  had  already  made  preparations,  and  little  by 
little  they  got  in  four  acres  of  young  nut  trees. 

Before  the  spring  was  over  Dr.  John  had  swung 
a  narrow  suspension  bridge  between  the  trees.  It 
was  a  light  structure,  designed  only  for  foot  passen 
gers,  neither  very  firm  nor  very  strong,  but  it  was 
a  vast  improvement  on  the  raft,  and  the  children 
could  not  express  their  pleasure  and  gratitude. 

"  It  is  splendid,  Dr.  John,"  declared  Hope.  "  But 
it  must  have  been  so  much  trouble  for  you,  —  and 
—  I  am  afraid  it  must  have  cost  a  lot  of  money." 


THE  EOPE  EXPRESS.  105 

"  A  mere  trifle,"  replied  the  doctor  coolly.  "And 
what  is  this  you  boys  were  saying  a  little  while  ago 
about  mending  the  old  trail  over  the  hills  ?  " 

"  We  've  got  it  in  pretty  good  order,  sir,"  replied 
Ned ;  "  though  I  don't  think  we  shall  have  much 
use  for  it  now." 

"  But  I  shall,"  returned  Dr.  John,  with  a  slight 
grimace.  "  There  is  a  family  living  a  mile  or  two 
back  of  you  that  is  perpetually  sending  for  me  in 
the  dead  of  night.  Sometimes  the  trouble  is  a 
toothache,  sometimes  a  little  cold  or  fever,  very 
often  a  sore  finger  or  toe,  —  the  boys  are  always  get 
ting  hurt  with  their  guns.  But  the  crisis  invariably 
comes  on  late  at  uight,  and  this  old  trail  is  going  to 
save  me  miles  of  travel." 

"  Is  it  the  McCrarys  ?  "  asked  Ned,  laughing. 

"Yes,  it  is  the  McCrarys,"  smiled  the  doctor; 
"  and  I  should  n't  wonder  if  they  'd  be  very  neigh 
borly  with  you  when  they  find  they  can  get  down 
here  without  much  trouble.  The  McCrarys  always 
have  plenty  of  time  to  spare,  but  not  much  besides. 
You  '11  pay  a  heavy  tax  yet  for  opening  that  trail." 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

HOPE   AND   THE   BIRDS. 

WHILE  Ned  and  Martin  were  busy  with  their 
outdoor  labor,  Hope  found  occupation  and  enter 
tainment  in  a  variety  of  delightful  ways.  During 
the  first  days  of  March  the  song-birds  all  re-ap 
peared. 

The  first  of  the  year  had  been  the  signal  for 
many  of  them  to  hide  away  in  mysterious  nooks, 
leaving  only  the  titmouse,  the  meadow  lark,  and  a 
few  other  sweet-voiced  but  shy  songsters. 

But  when  the  trees  came  into  blossom,  the  air 
was  again  glad  with  music.  First  came  the  dainty 
goldfinches,  with  song  so  faint  and  sweet  that  it 
seemed  to  melt  into  the  air  with  the  flutter  of  their 
green  and  golden  wings.  Next  came  the  linnets, 
the  female  quiet  and  domestic  in  her  garb  of  gray, 
but  with  bright  eyes  that  never  failed  to  single  out 
the  most  desirable  location  for  raising  her  young 
brood ;  the  male  brilliant  and  imperious,  with  his 
crimson  crest  and  breast  and  his  clear,  sustained 
song.  And  then  all  of  the  feathered  tribe  seemed 
to  settle  down  at  once  on  Home  Ranch  :  wrens, 
yellowhammers,  kingbirds,  woodpeckers,  bluebirds, 
blue  jays,  humming-birds,  gold-winged  blackbirds, 


HOPE  AND  THE  BIRDS.  107 

sparrows,  and  a  host  of  others,  some  of  which  not 
even  the  scientific  people  have  yet  named. 

Hope  knew  all  the  biras'  secrets.  She  watched 
their  love-making  and  their  quarreling,  their  ab 
surd  jealousies,  their  battles  and  their  merry-mak 
ings.  She  knew  of  the  wren's  nest  beside  the 
smoke-house  door ;  of  the  meadow  larks'  nests  on 
the  ground  in  the  pasture  ;  of  the  titmouse's  nest 
in  the  rushes  by  The  Brook ;  of  the  robins'  nest  in 
the  walnut  tree  ;  of  the  goldfinches'  nests  in  apple 
and  plum  trees  ;  of  the  linnets'  nests  anywhere  and 
everywhere  within  convenient  range  of  the  orchard. 

A  pair  of  humming-birds,  that  hovered  perpetu 
ally  about  the  house,  greatly  perplexed  her  for  a 
while.  They  were  the  most  marvelous  little  crea 
tures  that  ever  wore  feathers,  being  scarcely  larger 
than  fair-sized  butterflies,  and  tricked  out  in  glossy 
plumage  of  bronze  and  green,  glowing  with  a  me 
tallic  lustre,  while  collars  of  the  most  brilliant  ruby 
color  encircled  their  throats. 

One  day  the  boys,  coming  in  from  their  work  in 
the  vineyard,  met  Hope,  her  eyes  shining,  and  her 
lips  parted  with  excitement. 

"  I  've  found  them  out !  I  Ve  found  them  out," 
she  cried.  "  Come  with  me  ;  but  step,  —  oh,  ever 
so  softly  !  or  you'll  frighten  them." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  climbing  rose  at  the  front 
of  the  house,  and  carefully  lifting  a  branch,  mo 
tioned  to  the  boys  to  look  under  it.  There,  hidden 
in  the  leafy  covert,  no  higher  than  the  young  girl's 
chin,  was  the  daintiest  nest  ever  seen,  made  of  soft 


108  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

cotton  from  the  pussy  willows  by  The  Brook,  inter 
woven  with  the  finest  grasses  and  green  mosses, 
and  embroidered  with  one  shining  golden  thread. 
And  there  was  wee  mother  humming-bird,  watch 
ing  them  a  moment  with  bright,  inquiring  eyes, 
then  darting  off  and  poising  in  the  air  just  above 
their  heads,  uncovering  two  tiny  eggs  about  the 
size  of  buckshot,  lying  in  a  downy  hollow  like  a 
thimble. 

"  I  saw  her  take  the  thread  of  yellow  silk  about 
a  week  ago,"  whispered  Hope  breathlessly ;  "  I 
threw  it  out,  with  some  bits  of  cotton  and  some 
raveled  yarn.  I  do  it  every  day,  —  it  is  such  fun 
to  see  the  birds  scurry  off  with  them,  looking  over 
their  shoulders  to  see  if  I  am  watching.  They  've 
grown  to  expect  it,  and  it  helps  me  to  find  the 
nests.  Two  linnets  were  fighting  over  the  piece  of 
bright  silk,  and  the  humming-bird  came  down  like 
a  flash  and  carried  it  off." 

"  If  you  could  only  tame  her  !  "  suggested  Mar 
tin.  "  I  've  read  of  setting  a  little  honey  or  sugar 
and  water  in  the  window,  and  that  birds  will  learn 
to  come  for  it." 

Hope  tried  the  experiment,  and  not  only  the 
birds  came  for  the  sweet  food,  but  it  attracted  any 
number  of  gorgeous  butterflies,  of  every  size  and 
of  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  These  beautiful 
creatures  were  not  content  to  sip  their  sweets  on 
the  window  sill,  but  soon  learned  to  dart  into  the 
room,  and  they  circled  around  the  little  woman  who 
looked  after  their  tastes  with  such  consideration, 


HOPE  AND   THE  BIRDS.  109 

frequently  alighting  on  her  head  and  shoulders, 
and  even  upon  her  hands.  But  after  a  few  weeks 
the  wild  flowers  on  the  hills  allured  them,  and  the 
flies  arrived  in  such  swarms  that  Hope  was  con 
strained  to  put  aside  the  tempting  dainties.  She 
resolved,  however,  to  have  a  "butterfly  month" 
every  spring,  and  this  pretty  custom  became  a  part 
of  the  established  order  at  Home  Ranch. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   OLD    ORCHARD. 

THE  children  did  not  know  how  much  they  had 
missed  Dr.  John  until  now  that  he  resumed  his 
old  habit  of  coming  over  once  a  day  to  look  in 
upon  them  and  advise  them,  poor  farmer  though 
he  claimed  to  be.  The  day  after  the  hanging 
bridge  was  put  in  place  the  doctor  found  his  way 
to  the  orchard  where  the  boys  were  hoeing,  and 
looked  about,  with  hearty  approval,  at  the  changes 
they  had  made.  The  trees  were  no  longer  ill- 
shapen  and  straggling,  but  had  been  carefully 
trimmed,  while  young  trees  had  been  planted  in 
all  the  vacant  spaces.  Beside  the  old  trees  were 
two  rows  of  fig-suckers  that  Martin  had  set  out. 

"  The  old  fig-trees  don't  look  to  me  exactly 
healthy,"  remarked  Ned.  "  If  you  '11  just  look  at 
them  closely,  doctor,  you  '11  see  there  are  little 
bunches  coming  out  in  the  axil  of  every  leaf. 
They  look  as  if  they  might  have  been  made  by 
some  insect,  but  I  've  looked  high  and  low,  and  I 
can't  find  a  sign  of  a  bug  or  worm." 

"  Why,  my  boy,"  exclaimed  Dr.  John,  "  those 
are  the  figs." 

"  The  figs !  They  have  n't  had  a  sign  of  a  blos 
som  yet." 


THE  OLD  ORCHARD.  Ill 

"  I  remember,  I  remember,"  cried  Martin.  "  The 
book  says  the  florescence  is  inside  of  the  fig." 

The  doctor  quietly  cut  open  a  fig  and  handed  it 
to  the  boys,  with  a  little  magnifying  glass.  True 
enough,  there  were  the  myriads  of  tiny  blossoms 
clustered  about  the  hollow  centre  of  the  fruit. 

A  little  farther  on  they  came  to  a  row  of  per 
haps  a  dozen  and  a  half  trees,  heavily  loaded  with 
green  fruit,  and  so  surrounded  with  props  that  they 
resembled  the  sacred  banian-trees  of  India,  which 
send  down  roots  and  grow  new  trunks  from  the 
tips  of  the  horizontal  branches. 

"What  in  the  world  is  this?"  demanded  the 
doctor. 

"  Those  are  our  apricots.  Are  n't  we  going  to 
have  a  pile,  though !  You  can't  see  some  of  the 
branches  at  all,  the  fruit  is  so  clustered  around 
them." 

"  It  really  seems  as  if  we  can't  get  enough  props 
for  them,"  sighed  Ned.  "  It  keeps  Martin  and  me 
busy  a  couple  of  hours  every  morning,  and  it 's 
getting  hard  to  find  room  for  the  props.  Just  see 
how  those  branches  up  above  are  bending  down. 
They  '11  break  before  to-morrow  if  we  don't  prop 
them." 

"  How  would  it  do  to  put  some  of  the  branches 
in  slings  ?  "  suggested  Dr.  John. 

"  In  slings  ?  I  don't  quite  understand,  sir,"  said 
Ned. 

Ned  looked  keenly  at  Dr.  John,  and  saw  that  he 
put  up  his  hand  and  pulled  his  mustache  to  cover 
a  smile  that  bade  fair  to  expand  into  a  laugh. 


112  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Dr.  John,  what  ought  we  to  do  ?  " 

"  Boys,  did  you  never  hear  of  such  a  thing  as 
thinning  fruit  ?  " 

"  Oh,  we  don't  want  to  do  anything  like  that," 
protested  Martin.  "  The  papers  say  the  apricot 
crop  is  going  to  be  very  light  this  year.  They  're 
going  to  be  our  main  crop,  and  we  're  going  to  save 
every  one." 

"  Do  people  ever  *  thin '  fruit,  doctor  ?  "  asked 
Ned. 

"  Well,  yes,  they  do,"  Teplied  the  doctor.  "  In 
fact,  it 's  quite  the  custom.  During  this  month  and 
next  thinning  fruit  will  be  the  chief  occupation  on 
almost  every  ranch  throughout  the  county." 

"  But  the  idea ! "  cried  Martin,  who  could  not 
brook  the  thought  of  parting  with  any  of  his  cher 
ished  apricots  before  their  time.  "  Just  as  if  the 
trees  didn't  know  best  what  they  were  able  to 
stand.  Is  n't  nature  the  best  guide,  Dr.  John?  " 

"  Nature  has  had  possession  of  this  orchard  for 
about  seven  years,  and  you  can  see  what  a  job  she 
has  made  of  it,"  retaliated  the  doctor.  "  Nature, 
young  man,  knows  nor  cares  nothing  about  supply 
ing  the  demands  of  our  city  markets.  She  is  domi 
nated  by  one  purpose ;  the  propagation  of  species. 
The  more  a  tree  or  plant  is  neglected,  the  greater 
its  fecundity.  All  its  strength  and  vitality  are 
directed  to  that  purpose,  although  it  is  sometimes 
its  fate  to  be  stamped  out  of  existence  by  other 
plants  still  more  prolific  and  persistent,  like  the 
weeds  that  had  possession  of  the  soil  when  you  came 


THE  OLD  ORCHABD.  113 

here.  If  you  want  apricots  of  a  marketable  size, 
you  must  thin  them  out." 

"  Well,  I,  for  one,  shall  be  glad  to  be  relieved  of 
the  trouble  of  hunting  up  props,"  declared  Ned  ; 
"  and  they  will  make  excellent  firewood,  Martin. 
How  many  apricots  would  you  leave  on  a  branch, 
doctor  ?  "  he  asked,  taking  hold  of  a  bough  of  the 
tree  under  which  they  stood,  and  commencing  to 
pluck  off  the  fruit. 

"  The  fruit  should  be  at  least  four  or  five  inches 
apart  on  an  apricot  tree.  Peaches  are  always 
thinned  to  a  distance  of  seven  or  eight  inches. 
Of  course,  it  is  necessary  to  exercise  a  little  judg 
ment.  If  you  find  a  stout  branch  with  the  fruit 
all  clustered  in  one  spot,  it  would  be  reasonable  to 
leave  two  or  three  close  together.  Be  careful  not 
to  pull  off  any  little  leaf-twigs  with  the  fruit.  It 
takes  a  good  deal  of  courage,  boys,  to  thin  fruit  as 
one  ought.  Mr.  Abbott  tells  a  good  story  of  a 
young  Scotchman  who  came  out  here  last  year,  and 
whom  he  set  to  work  thinning  fruit  in  his  orchard. 
The  man  worked  on  for  a  time  in  open  disapproval. 
When  he  had  removed  about  a  third  of  the  neces 
sary  amount  of  fruit,  he  '  struck '  work,  and  sur 
veyed  the  tree  and  the  ground  beneath  it.  '  I  've 
thrawn  awa'  a'  tha'  gude  fruit  I  'm  gaun  to  ! '  he 
announced,  with  dignified  decision,  and  walked  off 
from  the  ranch,  and  was  seen  no  more." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MAKING   IMPROVEMENTS. 

BY  the  middle  of  May  the  last  rains  of  the  sea 
son  had  long  since  passed.  The  ground  the  Austins 
had  under  cultivation  had  received  its  last  harrow 
ing,  and  presented  the  smooth,  crummy  appearance 
so  dear  to  the  eyes  of  the  California  farmer. 

The  boys  now  had  before  them  six  months  of 
comparative  leisure,  which  would  be  broken  in 
upon  only  by  the  harvesting  of  their  light  fruit 
crop,  in  mid-summer. 

For  summer  was  upon  them  with  the  middle  of 
May.  The  temperature,  whose  average  had  been 
steadily  raised  each  month  of  the  year,  attained  a 
really  genial  warmth.  On  the  hills  all  the  sunny 
exposures  were  brilliant  with  wild  flowers  of  every 
hue,  and  in  the  shaded  gorges  and  on  the  north 
side  of  the  hills  beautiful  ferns  spread  their  delicate 
tracery  of  green  against  the  deeper  emerald  of 
moss,  or  the  warm  browns  and  yellows  of  lichen- 
bespattered  rocks.  Lush  grasses,  on  which  the 
cattle  loved  to  feed,  carpeted  the  openings  between 
the  trees  on  the  mountains,  and  grew  rank  and 
high  over  the  little  pasture  on  Home  Ranch. 

The  sycamores,  alders,  madronas,  maples,  and 


MAKING  IMPROVEMENTS.  115 

willows  along  The  Brook  rejoiced  in  their  summer 
foliage,  and  their  fresh  greens  stood  out  in  beauti 
ful  relief  against  the  sombre  tones  of  the  evergreen 
oak.  Orchard  and  vineyard  were  marching  on  to 
the  fruition  of  their  spring  promises ;  not  with  the 
unseemly  haste  of  northern  and  New  England 
summers,  but  with  stately,  measured  step,  as  if 
they  realized  the  generous  allotment  of  time  nature 
had  given  them,  in  which  to  complete  their  season's 
task. 

Early  in  the  season  Ned  and  Martin  began  to 
excavate  a  reservoir  to  hold  back  the  water  of  the 
spring,  in  order  to  get  a  sufficient  head  to  irrigate 
the  figs  in  the  old  orchard.  The  doctor  came  upon 
them  one  day  when  they  were  engaged  in  this 
work. 

"My  patience,  boys,  what  a  hole  you  have 
made !  "  he  cried.  "  Don't  you  think  you  have 
rather  overdone  it?  Twenty  or  thirty  thousand 
gallons  would  have  given  you  a  big  supply.  This 
will  hold  fifty  or  sixty  thousand,  at  the  least." 

Ned  looked  very  much  abashed. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  how  much  cement  it 's  going 
to  take,  Dr.  John,  or  how  much  lime  and  sand  we 
ought  to  mix  with  it  ?  The  encyclopedia  is  very 
free  in  telling  all  about  its  composition,  but  very 
indefinite  about  proportions." 

"  I  can't  say,  I  'm  sure,"  replied  Dr.  John,  shak 
ing  his  head  and  knitting  his  brows.  "  I  am  afraid 
it  will  cost  a  small  fortune." 

The  boys  looked  at  each  other  in  a  crestfallen 


116  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

silence.  Suddenly  Dr.  John's  eye  brightened  and 
his  manner  changed. 

"Hello!     What  is  this?" 

He  kicked  a  hard,  rock-like  substance  with  his 
foot,  and  then  stooped  and  picked  up  a  lump. 

"  Oh,  that  ?  That  sticky  old  clay  !  It  did  seem 
as  if  we  would  never  get  it  out.  The  bottom  's  all 
made  up  of  it.  Just  see  that  big  pile  over  there. 
It 's  all  one  solid  lump,"  explained  Martin. 

Dr.  John  stepped  over  to  the  pile  of  clay  indi 
cated  by  the  boy,  and,  breaking  away  the  outer 
crust,  possessed  himself  of  a  moist  and  plastic  lump. 
Moulding  this  into  a  hollow  cup,  he  dipped  it  into 
the  spring  and  held  it  out,  filled  with  water,  in  his 
hand. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Ned  inquiringly. 

"  Do  you  see  a  leak  anywhere  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.     It 's  water-tight." 

"  What  did  you  want  the  cement  for?  " 

"  Why,  to  keep  the  water  from  soaking  into  the 
earth ;  to  make  the  reservoir  water-tight.  Oh,  I 
see.  Martin,  what  geese  we  have  been  !  What 
better  lining  do  we  want  than  this  very  clay  that 
has  been  bothering  us  so?" 

So  the  reservoir  was  completed,  and  by  the  mid 
dle  of  the  summer  the  fig-trees  were  copiously  irri 
gated  twice  or  three  times  a  week,  but  not  in  time 
to  save  the  first  crop,  which  had  already  fallen  to 
the  ground.  The  boys  supplemented  the  good 
work  by  running  a  second  water  -  channel,  lined 
with  the  impervious  clay,  down  to  the  kitchen  door, 


MAKING  IMPROVEMENTS.  117 

where  they  made  a  little  reservoir  to  supply  water 
for  household  uses. 

They  harvested  a  light  fruit  crop  from  the  old 
orchard  that  year,  and,  although  it  was  by  no 
means  of  the  first  quality,  it  happened  that  the 
fruit  crop  was  everywhere  light  that  year,  and  they 
were  thus  enabled  to  secure  good  prices.  The  fig- 
trees  drank  up  the  water  sent  down  to  them,  like 
thirsty  camels  that  had  crossed  a  broad  and  deso 
late  waste ;  but  the  great  leaves  hung  like  so  many 
gigantic  sheltering  hands  over  the  smooth  gray 
branches,  and  there  was  no  further  sign  of  fruit  or 
blossom. 

One  day,  about  the  last  of  September,  the  chil 
dren  passed  through  the  orchard  on  their  way  to 
The  Brook,  where  they  had  been  at  work  for  some 
clays,  preparing  material  for  a  rude  fence  to  shut 
off  a  corral  for  the  cattle  and  to  protect  their  win 
ter's  crops.  Martin  ran  over  to  look  at  the  irri 
gating  ditch  and  to  see  if  the  water  was  running 
freely  in  it,  for  they  had  lifted  the  gate  that  morn 
ing.  Quite  by  chance  he  looked  over  towards  the 
trees. 

"  Come  here,  Ned !  "  he  cried  exultantly. 

Ned  came  and  looked,  and  there,  in  the  axils  of 
the  huge  leaves,  were  tiny  green  bunches. 

"Do  you  think  they'll  come  to  anything?" 
asked  Martin  anxiously. 

"  I  don't  know.  It  seems  pretty  late  in  the 
season." 

But  they  did  come  to  something.     Day  after  day 


118  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

the  boys  watched  the  trees,  as  they  went  back  and 
forth,  dragging  logs  and  timber  for  the  fence.  So 
rapidly  did  the  fruit  "  come  on  "  that  they  felt  it 
prudent  to  order  a  couple  of  dozen  fig-boxes,  and 
they  had  them  ready  none  too  soon.  The  figs  ex 
panded,  softened,  took  on  color,  and  were  ready  for 
picking  in  two  weeks  from  the  time  they  were  first 
discovered.  Better  still,  as  soon  as  the  trees  were 
relieved  of  the  ripe  fruit  the  small  green  figs  began 
to  swell.  On  the  21st  of  October,  twelve  days 
after  the  first  picking,  a  second  crop  was  ready  for 
market,  and  this  excelled  the  first  in  quantity  and 
quality.  On  the  2d  of  November,  precisely  twelve 
days  later,  the  third  crop,  less  in  quantity  but  of 
even  finer  quality,  was  gathered.  On  the  eighth 
of  November,  seven  days  later,  the  last  crop,  a 
straggling  remnant,  was  sold  at  good  prices.  Alto 
gether,  they  netted  upwards  of  nineteen  dollars 
from  four  trees,  and  were  jubilant,  as  they  well 
might  be,  over  the  success  of  this  little  crop. 

When  they  came  to  count  up  the  profits  from 
their  entire  fruit  crop  that  season,  they  found  that, 
small  as  the  sum  was,  it  very  nearly  covered  their 
living  expenses  for  the  whole  summer,  leaving  the 
money  they  had  received  for  the  peas  almost  un 
touched. 

During  the  summer  months  the  boys  carried  out 
a  long-cherished  plan,  and  entered  upon  a  system 
atic  course  of  home  study,  aided  by  Dr.  John's  ad 
vice,  and  by  an  eastern  educational  society,  of 
which  they  became  corresponding  members. 


MAKING  IMPROVEMENTS.  119 

Hope  had  taken  her  share  in  the  out-door  work, 
as  well  as  the  boys,  and  there  had  been  a  division 
of  household  tasks  as  unexpected  as  it  was  pleasant 
for  the  young  girl.  The  new  life  had  a  magical 
effect  on  the  slight  child,  and  the  roses  bloomed 
in  her  cheeks  for  the  first  time  since  her  mother 
died. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

TWO   SURPRISES. 

THERE  caine  a  time  in  the  fall  when  the  boys 
were  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do  with  the  long 
hours  that  hung  heavily  upon  them. 

"  Let 's  prospect.  There  are  lots  of  rocks  about 
here.  We  might  find  a  gold  or  silver  lode.  Any 
way,  we  could  start  a  cabinet  of  stones  and  bugs 
and  things,"  proposed  Martin. 

"  I  'd  enjoy  that  kind  of  thing  as  much  as  you, 
if  my  mind  were  only  free,  Martin,"  rejoined  Ned. 
"  But  I  have  a  feeling  all  the  time  that  we  ought 
to  be  working  to  some  purpose.  Just  see  the  way 
we  're  living :  sleeping  in  the  only  sitting-room 
we  've  got.  It  is  n't  nice  for  Hope,  and  it  is  n't 
nice  for  us.  I  wish  there  was  some  way  we  could 
tack  on  an  extra  room." 

"  We  could  do  it  if  we  had  the  lumber,"  said 
Martin  confidently. 

'*  But  we  have  n't,  and  we  can't  afford  it,  either  ; 
even  if  we  could  contrive  to  get  it  over  here.  But 
if  we  could  even  make  it  out  of  logs  ;  now  that 
seems  feasible.  There  are  any  number  of  young 
saplings  down  by  the  stream,  and  we  could  plaster 
the  chinks  with  clay.  You  know  there  's  an  extra 


TWO  SURPRISES.  121 

door  already,  leading  out  of  the  front  room,  that 
we  could  use.  A  window  would  be  easily  enough 
managed." 

The  boys  went  down  to  the  brook,  taking  axe 
and  hatchet,  and  blazing  a  mark  on  young  trees  of 
suitable  size,  as  they  came  across  them.  There  was 
a  little  piece  of  woodland  bordering  on  the  stream 
at  the  extreme  southern  corner  of  their  place,  that 
they  had  never  explored.  Searching  for  straight 
and  shapely  young  trees,  they  followed  the  stream 
down  farther  than  they  had  ever  gone  before,  and 
went  out  on  a  little  neck  of  land  that  projected 
sharply  into  the  water,  where  the  stream  made  a 
sudden  bend  and  left  the  hills,  which  seemed  to 
crowd  it  too  closely,  to  escape  into  the  free  and 
open  valley. 

The  lower  side  of  this  neck  of  land  abutted 
on  an  out-jutting  ledge  of  rock  that  overhung  the 
water.  The  upper  side  was  bordered  with  tall  trees 
that  seemed  to  interlace  and  form  an  impenetrable 
hedge.  Ned  walked  over  to  see  what  prospects 
there  were  in  this  direction.  He  climbed  into  one 
of  the  trees,  in  order  to  see  what  lay  beyond. 

"  Martin,  come  here!  "  he  cried  in  excitement. 

Martin's  nimble  limbs  soon  helped  him  to  his 
brother's  side,  whence  he  looked  down  upon  an  as 
tonishing  sight.  The  file  of  tall  forest  trees  had 
acted  like  the  booms  constructed  in  the  lumber 
regions  of  the  north  to  catch  logs  carried  clown  by 
the  winter  freshets.  Piled  up  against  them  was  a 
goodly  share  of  the  debris  of  the  flood,  a  fantastic 


122  THE  ABANDONED    CLAIM. 

medley  of  skeleton  trees,  uprooted  chaparral,  fence 
rails  and  posts,  heavy  timber,  planks,  —  lumber  of 
every  description  ;  assorted  odds  and  ends,  enough 
to  build  a  house,  had  there  only  been  more  of  a 
kind. 

"  Do  you  mind  giving  me  a  pinch,  Martin,  to  see 
whether  I  'm  awake  ?  It  's  altogether  too  Crusoe- 
like,"  declared  Ned.  "  You  remember  how  it  was 
with  Robinson  :  whenever  he  was  in  great  need  of 
anything,  it  was  sure  to  turn  up  right  to  his  hand." 

"  Crusoe-like  or  no,"  rejoined  Martin,  "  we  've  got 
our  room,  and  firewood  enough  for  a  year  to  come, 
if  we  can  ever  untangle  it." 

It  is  no  easy  matter  for  two  boys,  who  have  never 
had  any  experience  in  building,  to  put  up  a  dwell 
ing,  or  a  portion  of  a  dwelling,  so  that  it  shall  be 
safe  for  people  to  live  in  it.  The  boys  puzzled  long 
over  the  framing  of  the  timbers,  being  finally 
helped  out  of  their  quandary  by  Dr.  John,  who  was 
a  practical  observer,  and  knew  just  enough  to  show 
them  how  to  put  the  framework  together  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  it  firm  and  solid. 

The  room  grew  but  slowly,  for  much  of  the  work 
was  really  beyond  the  boys'  strength,  and  they 
were  obliged  to  take  frequent  rests.  They  built  up 
the  walls  breast-high  with  hewn  saplings,  and  above 
these  they  clapboarded  with  broad  planks,  the 
lower  edge  of  each  overlapping  the  top  of  the  next 
below,  so  as  to  shed  water. 

It  was  a  rough  specimen  of  building  when  they 
had  done,  but  it  was  substantial,  and  answered 


TWO  SURPRISES.  123 

their  purpose  nicely.  The  room  was  much  larger 
than  they  had  meant  to  make  it,  for  they  wanted  to 
do  the  most  with  their  lumber,  and  could  not  bear 
to  cut  off  an  unnecessary  foot.  It  looked  rougher 
from  the  inside  than  from  without,  and  Hope,  with 
the  instinct  of  a  neat  housewife,  pointed  out  the 
ledges  that  would  catch  dust,  and  the  attractive 
prospect  it  offered  to  spiders  and  cockroaches. 

After  a  short  consultation,  the  boys  went  down 
to  the  village  store  and  bought  a  whole  piece  of 
figured  chintz,  at  eight  cents  a  yard.  This  they 
cut  into  appropriate  lengths,  which  Hope  stitched 
together  on  the  machine,  and  when  it  was  ready 
they  tacked  it  into  place,  completely  covering  the 
ceiling  and  the  walls.  It  was  a  pretty  piece  of  cloth, 
gray,  with  a  little  pink  figure,  and  the  effect  was 
really  very  pleasant  when  the  room  was  draped 
with  it.  They  had  made  one  window,  for  which  they 
bought  frame  and  sashes,  and  when  Hope  took  an 
old  white  sheet,  and,  gathering  the  top  on  a  cord, 
tacked  it  into  place,  catching  it  back  with  a  piece 
of  faded  pink  ribbon  from  among  her  own  stores, 
and  dressed  the  bed  with  a  white  spread  and  clean 
linen,  they  voted  it  the  very  prettiest  room  in  the 
house. 

They  next  gave  their  attention  to  the  outside  of 
the  house,  and  plastered  the  crumbling  adobe  with 
handfuls  of  moist  clay,  but  this  gave  it  such  a 
mottled  look  that  they  were  quite  ashamed  of  it 
when  they  were  done. 

A  few  days  later  Ned  returned  home,  after  half 


124  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

a  day's  absence,  to  find  Martin  standing  on  a  rude 
ladder  they  had  used  when  building,  a  large  bucket 
hooked  upon  one  of  the  rounds,  busily  at  work  upon 
the  side  of  the  house,  plying  a  whitewash  brush 
that  had  done  service  about  the  chicken  house. 

"  Hold  on,  Martin  !  "  Ned  shouted,  as  soon  as  he 
got  within  speaking  distance.  "  Don't  daub  it  up 
with  whitewash,  of  all  things.  That  will  be 
ghostly." 

"  Go  around  and  look  at  the  front  of  the  house, 
where  it  is  dry,"  said  Martin  coolly,  without  ceas 
ing  his  work. 

It  was  such  a  piece  of  presumption  for  Martin 
to  order  him  about  that  Ned  mechanically  obeyed, 
overcome  by  the  boy's  effrontery.  He  found  the 
entire  front  of  the  house  an  even,  cool  gray. 

"  How  did  you  manage  it,  youngster  ?  "  demand 
ed  Ned,  when  he  returned,  greatly  puzzled,  for 
they  had  voted  that  the  cost  of  paint  was  entirely 
out  of  the  question. 

No  answer. 

"  Find  a  mine  of  natural  paint  in  the  hills  ?  " 

Still  no  answer. 

"  Kob  a  paint  store  ?  " 

The  young  artist  turned,  gave  the  impertinent 
questioner  one  withering  look,  and  resumed  his 
task. 

"  Oh,  come  now.  Don't  be  too  hard  on  a  fellow. 
Is  it  oil  paint,  or  is  it  water  color,  or  what  in  the 
name  of  creation  is  it  ?  " 

"  Lampblack." 


TWO  SURPRISES.  125 

"  Lampblack  !  Lampblack  is  black  as  soot,  and 
this  is  a  neat  gray.  Are  you  crazy,  Martin  ?  " 

"  Ask  Hope.     I  'in  too  busy." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hope,  appearing  on  the  scene,  gently 
triumphant.  "  It  is  lampblack,  Ned.  Just  white 
wash,  made  with  the  lime  you  had  left  from  the 
chicken -house,  with  the  least  bit  of  lampblack 
stirred  in.  Martin  and  I  studied  it  up  together." 

Rain  fell  about  the  middle  of  November,  and  one 
morning  during  the  first  storm,  Ned  came  puffing 
into  the  kitchen,  in  the  midst  of  a  driving  shower, 
with  a  fawn-colored  something  in  his  arms,  whose 
great  eyes  looked  up  to  Hope  with  the  eloquent 
appeal  of  a  young  deer. 

"  Can't  you  give  it  a  place  in  the  kitchen  to-day, 
Hope  ?  It  is  so  wet  and  cold,  and  can't  stand  on 
its  legs  ;  but  they  say  you  ought  always  to  take 
them  away  from  the  mother  at  once." 

"  Ned  Austin !  "  cried  Hope,  dropping  toast  and 
toasting-fork  into  the  fire,  in  her  excitement,  and 
falling  on  her  knees  beside  the  little  creature,  as 
Ned  laid  it  tenderly  upon  the  floor.  "  You  don't 
mean  —  Oh,  is  n't  it  lovely  !  You  pretty,  helpless 
little  darling?  It  isn't  — Oh,  Ned !  It  can't  be"— 

"Beauty's  calf?  But  it  is,"  rejoined  Ned. 
"  And  you  '11  let  it  stay  in  the  house  to-day  ?  " 

"To-day!"  Hope's  voice  was  scathing.  "It 
shall  stay  in  the  house  all  winter" 

"The  idea!"  shouted  Ned,  and  Martin  joined 
him  in  his  hearty  laughter. 


126  THE   ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  You  absurd  little  girl ! "  he  contrived  to  say 
after  a  while.  "  The  idea  of  raising  a  calf  in  the 
house  is  ridiculous.  You  can  keep  it  as  long  as 
you  like.  But  here  's  the  milk-pail ;  put  it  on  the 
stove,  Martin,  and  warm  it  a  little.  We  Ve  got  to 
teach  the  little  thing  to  eat." 

With  the  air  of  veteran  dairymen  the  two  boys 
went  to  work,  Ned  holding  the  calf's  muzzle  down 
in  the  milk,  while  Martin  inserted  one  of  his  fingers 
in  her  mouth.  It  was  wonderful  how  quickly  the 
little  creature  understood,  and  began  to  take  the 
milk.  The  coffee  was  cold,  and  the  toasting-fork 
had  done  its  last  service  when  rescued  from  the  bed 
of  coals,  but  the  three  children  were  in  ecstasies  of 
delight,  and  even  old  dog  Tray,  who  had  risen  from 
his  post  beside  the  breakfast-table  and  come  forth 
to  sniff  at  the  intruder,  wagged  his  tail  in  interested 
approval. 

There  is  no  animal,  unless  it  be  a  wee  human 
baby,  quite  as  frail  and  weak  as  a  little  Jersey  calf 
when  first  it  opens  its  eyes  upon  this  world.  Calves 
of  common  stock  often  go  galloping  over  a  field  a 
few  hours  after  birth,  but  this  little  animal  lay 
helpless  and  exhausted,  the  spark  of  life  seeming 
to  glow  and  fade  by  turns,  while  its  beautiful  eyes 
appeared  to  beseech  help  and  sympathy. 

The  boys  brought  in  hay  and  made  it  a  bed  in 
the  corner  of  the  kitchen,  and  Hope  scarcely  dared 
trust  it  out  of  her  sight,  but  when  she  was  perform 
ing  her  daily  tasks  in  the  other  rooms,  kept  running 
to  the  kitchen  to  see  if  the  frail  creature  was  still 


TWO  SURPRISES.  127 

alive.  For  two  successive  mornings,  although  they 
did  not  confess  it  to  each  other,  each  of  the  three 
tiptoed  to  the  kitchen  at  break  of  day,  with  solemn 
expectancy  in  their  faces,  fully  expecting  to  find 
their  delicate  charge  stiff  and  dead. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  they  were 
aroused  by  a  prolonged  growl  from  old  Tray,  which 
resounded  throughout  the  house.  Hope  sprang 
out  of  bed,  wrapped  a  shawl  about  her,  and  flew 
out  of  her  room,  only  to  encounter  the  boys,  bare 
footed  and  vainly  trying  to  fasten  their  suspenders 
as  they  raced  towards  the  kitchen  and  flung  the 
door  open. 

They  were  greeted  by  a  startling  and  dramatic 
sight.  The  bed  of  hay  in  the  corner  was  empty, 
but  before  the  stove  lay  old  dog  Tray,  in  his  accus 
tomed  place,  and  over  him  hovered  a  spectral  ap 
parition,  very  shaky  on  its  legs,  but  with  Beauty's 
own  bland  mischief  in  its  eyes,  looking  down  upon 
the  poor  dog,  who  seemed  paralyzed  with  astonish 
ment  and  terror. 

It  was  plain  that  Tray  thought  some  strange 
phantom  from  canine  dreamland  had  come  to  haunt 
him  in  his  waking  hours,  for  he  did  not  stir  leg  or 
foot,  but,  at  the  opening  of  the  door,  turned  such  a 
look  of  distress  upon  his  young  protectors  that  they 
screamed  with  merriment. 

The  calf,  distracted  from  her  victim  by  this 
sound,  threw  up  her  head,  gave  them  one  look,  and 
then  charged  at  them,  scattering  the  little  group 
right  and  left.  She  raced  through  the  front  room 


128  THE  ABANDONED   CLAIM. 

to  the  boys'  room,  kicking  up  her  heels  as  she  van 
ished  from  sight ;  then  reappeared,  caromed  into 
Hope's  room,  bounced  back,  gave  a  series  of  exult 
ant  leaps  around  the  room  where  they  stood,  darted 
out  into  the  kitchen  again,  made  a  rush  at  Tray, 
who  slunk  under  the  table  to  escape  her,  knocked 
a  pile  of  milk-pans  off  the  stove  hearth,  and  was 
finally  seized  by  the  boys  and  brought  to  a  halt, 
her  great  eyes  shining  with  the  same  calm  light. 

"  Oh,  horrors  !  "  cried  Hope.  "  Boys,  do  you 
think  she  has  gone  mad  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it !  "  laughed  Ned.  "  She  's  per 
fectly  level-headed,  Hope.  Saner  than  we  were. 
We  ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  try  to 
keep  her  in  the  house." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  keep  her  in  the  house  all 
winter?"  jested  Martin. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !  Take  her  out  just  as  quick  as 
you  can.  It 's  a  mercy  there  's  a  whole  dish  in  the 
house,"  answered  the  young  girl,  who  could  not 
shake  off  the  horror  of  what  might  have  been. 
"  Oh,  you  slyboots  !  I  never  would  have  believed 
it  of  you  —  never." 

"  Slyboots  shall  be  her  name.  You  've  chris 
tened  her,  Hope,"  said  Ned,  who  had  finally  got  a 
rope  around  the  neck  of  the  little  heifer  calf,  and 
was  hauling  her,  by  slow  degrees,  towards  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A   TRIP   TO   THE   CITY. 

THE  second  Christmas  after  they  settled  on 
Home  Ranch,  Hope  and  Martin  went  down  to  see 
their  father.  Discouraged  by  Ned's  reception,  and 
fearful  that  their  presence  might  somehow  work 
harm  to  the  invalid,  they  had  sent  messages  and 
the  simple  gifts  at  their  command,  and  received  in 
return  the  reports  of  Dr.  John's  friend,  which  came 
regularly  every  week.  But  now  the  doctor  him 
self  advised  that  they  should  go. 

The  sick  man  had  been  watching  for  them  all 
the  morning.  Every  time  that  the  door  of  the  long 
ward  opened,  his  eyes  had  turned  toward  it  with 
an  expectant  look.  He  was  lying  in  a  great  inva 
lid  chair,  whose  carved  frame  and  soft  upholstery 
contrasted  sharply  with  the  simplicity  about  it. 
At  length  his  quickened  hearing  caught  the  sound 
of  young  voices  in  the  hall.  The  door  opened,  and 
there  stood  his  little  Hope,  looking  down  the  ward 
in  timid  inquiry. 

How  fair  and  tall  and  womanly  she  had  grown  ! 
His  heart  yearned  over  her,  and  he  longed  to  clasp 
her  in  his  arms,  and  shower  blessings  on  her  dear 
young  head.  He  could  only  lie  and  look  at  her, 


130  THE   ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

his  eyes  eloquent  with  the  love  and   emotion   his 
lips  could  not  express. 

A  sick  man  in  the  next  cot  started  up  wildly  as 
the  innocent  girl  ran  by,  with  her  arms  outstretched, 
a  bunch  of  flowers  in  her  hand. 

"  The  Angel  of  Light !  "  he  cried,  and  fell  back 
on  the  pillow,  where  he  watched  her  with  wild, 
rapt  gaze,  muttering  the  words  over  and  over 
again. 

Others  in  the  ward  propped  themselves  up  on 
one  elbow  to  rejoice  in  the  glad  vision.  The  father 
alone  could  give  no  sign  of  the  joy  that  filled  his 
heart. 

Ah,  well !  It  was  soon  over,  and  he  had  only 
fair  memories  to  remind  him  of  his  children's  pres 
ence.  The  delirious  patient  in  the  next  cot  was 
still  raving  about  the  "  angel  of  light,"  and  died 
with  the  cry  upon  his  lips.  The  bunch  of  flowers 
was  still  there,  in  the  glass  where  she  had  placed 
them  ;  soon  they  would  fade  and  die. 

He  alone  outlived  his  usefulness.  Day  and  night 
he  waited  with  long-deferred  hope  for  the  coming 
of  the  King. 

The  children  stopped  to  speak  with  the  physi 
cian  in  charge  of  the  ward,  as  they  went  out. 

"  It  was  so  good  of  you  to  get  that  nice  chair  for 
father,  sir,"  said  Hope.  "  He  seems  so  comfortable 
in  it,  and  it  must  be  such  a  change  for  him,  after 
lying  all  night  in  bed  in  one  position." 

The  physician  looked  embarrassed.  It  would  not 
do  to  let  the  matter  pass  in  that  way.  Other 


A   TRIP  TO  THE  CITY.  131 

patients  were  within  hearing.  It  might  breed  dis 
content  in  the  ward. 

"  The  hospital  board  has  no  money  to  waste  on 
such  luxuries,"  he  said  shortly.  "  That  was  sent 
here  by  your  father's  friend." 

"Father's  friend?" 

"  Yes,  the  gentleman  who  comes  to  see  him  every 
Sunday." 

"  Oh,  Dr.  John's  friend,"  said  Martin ;  and 
when  the  children  reached  home  that  night  and 
saw  Dr.  John,  they  broached  the  subject  to  him. 

"Dr.  John,  your  friend  has  brought  father  a 
beautiful  chair.  It  is  very  kind  of  him,  but  don't 
you  think  we  ought  to  pay  for  it  ?  We  would 
like  to." 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  said  the  doctor  gruffly. 
"  Let  him  do  it  if  he  wants  to.  He  can  afford  it 
better  than  you." 

"  He  must  be  a  very  generous  man,  I  am  sure, 
to  do  so  much  for  a  stranger,"  said  Hope. 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  is  one  of  the  most  selfish 
men  I  know,"  declared  Dr.  John.  "  He  has  done 
it  for  nothing  in  the  world  but  his  own  pleasure. 
Oh,  I  know  the  man.  Let  me  manage  him." 

"I  must  say  I  think  Dr.  John  doesn't  half  ap 
preciate  that  friend  of  his,"  said  Martin,  when 
they  had  turned  away.  "I  '11  tell  you  what,  I  go 
more  on  him  than  I  do  on  Dr.  John.  You  don't 
know  everything  about  Dr.  John." 

"  Why,  Martin,"  cried  Hope,  in  amazement. 
"  And  just  think  !  If  it  had  n't  been  for  Dr.  John 
he  would  never  have  known  anything  about  father." 


132  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Yes,  that 's  so.  But  it 's  very  easy  to  do  good 
things  by  proxy,"  insisted  Martin. 

"  By  proxy !  Martin  Austin  !  I  should  think 
you  'd  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  Perhaps  Dr.  John 
has  helped  us  by  proxy.  Oh,  yes,  he  's  helped  us 
by  proxy  all  along,  —  made  us  welcome  here,  and 
looked  after  us  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  and  built  the 
foot  bridge,  and  helped  us  with  encouragement  and 
advice,  by  proxy,  right  along ! " 

By  the  time  Hope  had  finished  this  incoherent 
and  indignant  speech,  she  was  wiping  the  tears 
from  her  eyes,  and  Martin  was  ready  to  prostrate 
himself  in  the  dust  before  her,  to  appease  her  and 
his  own  conscience. 

Yet  only  the  week  before,  Martin  had  taken  an 
other  ride  to  Oakland  with  the  doctor,  and  he  felt 
that  he  had  been  installed  as  Dr.  John's  confeder 
ate.  He  was  beginning  to  understand  what  it  was 
to  "  be  a  man  with  a  history." 

It  meant  a  dark,  disgraceful  secret  to  be  con 
cealed.  It  meant  fear  and  distrust  of  one's  fellow- 
man.  It  meant  underhand,  humiliating  ways  of 
doing  business.  It  meant  suspicion  of  others  and 
contempt  of  one's  self.  Martin  wished  with  all 
his  heart  that  the  doctor  had  no  history. 

The  first  year  of  experiment  and  struggle  was 
safely  past,  and  the  boys  felt  that  they  might  now 
look  forward  to  an  era  of  prosperity  and  comfort. 

Yet  serious  trouble  was  close  at  hand,  and  Hope, 
wise,  prudent  little  Hope,  was  to  bring  disaster 
upon  them. 


CHAPTEK  XX. 

HOPE'S   EMBEZZLEMENT. 

AFTER  the  money  for  the  peas  had  been  laid 
aside  in  the  spring,  it  was  really  wonderful  how 
nearly  their  income  had  kept  pace  with  their  ex 
penses.  When  December  had  come  and  gone,  and 
the  new  crop  was  planted,  they  had  drawn  less 
than  twenty  dollars  from  the  two  hundred  and  odd 
they  had  received  from  their  spring  sales. 

Ned  carefully  estimated  their  expenses  for  the 
coming  spring,  including  new  suits  for  himself  and 
Martin,  and  a  liberal  contingency  fund,  and  found 
that  he  still  had  a  surplus  of  a  hundred  dollars. 
He  gave  this  into  Hope's  hands,  saying :  — 

"  There,  little  sister,  I  think  you  should  have 
command  of  something.  There  must  be  some 
things  you  need." 

Hope's  eyes  glistened  as  her  hand  closed  on  the 
great  double  eagles. 

"  And  may  I  spend  just  a  little  of  it  for  my 
self?" 

Her  voice  was  so  eager  that  Ned  was  smitten 
with  self-reproach. 

"  Why,  Hope !  spend  every  penny  of  it  if  you 


134  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

like.  What  misers  we  boys  have  been  !  You  Ve 
been  wanting  something  in  the  way  of  clothes  and 
would  n't  tell  us.". 

"  No,  no,  —  not  clothes  !  "  corrected  the  young 
girl  earnestly.  "  Flowers." 

"  Flowers  ?  "  repeated  both  boys  in  chorus. 

"  Yes,  flowers,  —  roses.  Oh,  I  've  wanted  them 
so  much,  and  there  's  such  a  beautiful  place  for 
them  along  the  path  to  The  Brook.  If  I  only 
could  go  to  Mr.  Abbott's  and  buy  some  out 
right"— 

"  Why,  of  course,  Hope,"  interrupted  Ned. 
"  It 's  high  time  you  had  some  pleasure  for  your 
self.  Go  to-morrow." 

It  was  a  glad  day  for  Hope  when  she  set  out  to 
buy  her  roses,  armed  with  a  capacious  basket. 

The  gentle  nurseryman  met  her  with  a  pleasant 
smile. 

"  And  what  wants  my  little  maid  with  the  big 
basket  ?  " 

"  Some  roses,  please,  Mr.  Abbott,"  replied  Hope 
in  a  sprightly  tone,  for  it  really  raised  the  young 
girl's  spirits  to  find  herself  out  in  the  world,  nego 
tiating  for  these  coveted  treasures. 

"  Koses  ?"  returned  the  old  man.  "And  what 
kind  of  roses  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  you  please,"  said  Hope,  "  I  think  — 
I  would  like  all  kinds." 

Mr.  Abbott  laughed,  a  pleased,  indulgent 
laugh,  that  could  not  have  wounded  the  feelings 
of  anybody. 


HOPE'S  EMBEZZLEMENT.  135 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  I  am  afraid  you  can't 
find  them  here.  How  many  kinds  of  roses  does 
this  little  woman  suppose  there  are  in  cultiva 
tion  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  thought  —  I  supposed,"  said  Hope, 
"  about  a  dozen,  —  possibly  two  dozen." 

"  Say  two  thousand,  my  child,  and  you  will  be 
nearer  right,"  explained  Mr.  Abbott  gravely. 

"  Two  thousand  !  "  repeated  the  young  girl,  dis 
mayed. 

"Double  that,  —  and  the  number  is  increasing 
every  year,"  he  continued.  "  But  now  let  us  see 
what  we  can  find.  I  think  I  have  perhaps  thirty 
or  forty  varieties  that  I  have  picked  up  from  time 
to  time." 

Mr.  Abbott  was  even  better  than  his  word.  He 
went  the  rounds  of  the  place  with  Hope,  and  in  a 
short  time  forty-two  plants,  representing  as  many 
standard  varieties  of  roses,  were  snugly  packed  in 
the  willow  basket.  So  Hope  handed  him  four  dol 
lars  from  her  little  purse,  with  as  great  a  pride  and 
a  loftier  pleasure  than  if  she  had  been  an  empress, 
negotiating  for  some  rare  and  costly  fabric. 

"  I  really  think,"  remarked  the  nurseryman,  as 
he  led  his  visitor  to  his  trim  little  office,  to  make 
out  a  receipt  in  due  form,  "  that  some  one  might 
make  money  by  going  into  roses  on  a  considerable 
scale.  I  don't  know  of  any  nursery  on  the  coast 
that  makes  a  specialty  of  them.  Besides  propa 
gating  plants  for  sale,  there  could  be  a  very  decent 
income  secured  by  selling  cut  flowers  to  the  city 
florists." 


136  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Hope's  eyes  brightened  with  a  new  light,  and  the 
flush  in  her  cheeks  deepened. 

"  Mr.  Abbott,"  she  asked,  as  he  handed  her 
the  receipt,  "  who  —  does  —  keep  —  all  kinds  —  of 

?99 

"  I  don't  know  of  any  one  house  in  the  country," 
replied  the  old  gentleman,  "  but  there  are  several 
eastern  rose-growers  of  high  repute  who  have  a 
very  large  selection.  How  would  you  like  to  carry 
home  some  of  their  catalogues  ?  They  send  them 
to  me  every  year.  You  will  find  them  very  attrac 
tive  books  ;  in  fact  they  are  so  very  pretty  and  at 
tractive  that,  as  I  don't  care  to  go  any  deeper  into 
roses  myself,  I  had  quite  as  lief  get  rid  of  their 
temptations.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  send  on 
for  one  of  their  dollar  collections,  my  dear.  They 
are  really  worth  having." 

He  put  together  several  nicely  illustrated  pam 
phlets  as  he  spoke,  and  tucked  them  in  the  willow 
basket,  quite  unconscious  of  the  firebrand  he  was 
touching  to  the  young  girl's  imagination. 

There  was  a  lot  of  ground  intersected  by  The 
Brook  path  that  had  been  carefully  ploughed,  and 
that  was  admirably  suited  for  ornamental  purposes, 
and  Hope  at  once  appropriated  it  for  a  rose  garden. 
It  so  happened  that  she  wished  to  mass  the  colors 
by  themselves,  but  that  she  could  not  remember 
the  description  of  all  of  them,  and  she  was  obliged 
to  consult  the  catalogues  to  find  out.  Now  it 
chanced  that  the  one  she  took  up  was  the  most  be 
witching  of  all,  a  thick,  magazine-like  book,  upon 


HOPE'S  EMBEZZLEMENT.  137 

the  cover  of  which  a  beautiful  pink  rose  was  pic 
tured.  Turning  the  leaves,  she  came  upon  some 
rich-colored  plates,  representing  the  latest  novelties 
in  roses,  and  at  sight  of  these  the  child  gave  little 
exclamations  of  delight.  She  became  so  absorbed 
in  the  book  that  it  was  not  until  she  heard  the 
sound  of  the  boys'  voices  at  the  house,  and  looked 
up  to  see  smoke  curling  from  the  kitchen  chimney, 
that  she  realized  how  late  it  was  and  bethought 
herself  of  her  neglected  duties.  Hurriedly  "  heel 
ing  in  "  the  plants,  a  process  which  consisted  sim 
ply  in  laying  them  together  and  covering  the  roots 
with  a  layer  of  damp  earth,  she  ran  up  to  the 
house. 

This  was  only  the  beginning.  A  few  days  later 
Hope  sent  off  orders  for  three  one-dollar  collections 
of  ever-blooming  roses,  addressed  to  as  many  dif 
ferent  florists.  Two  weeks  later  the  plants  arrived 
by  mail,  carefully  packed  in  damp  moss  and  pro 
tected  from  the  journey  across  the  continent  by 
many  wrappings  of  paper  and  cotton  wadding,  as 
well  as  wooden  casings.  When  she  opened  them 
they  looked  as  fresh  as  if  they  had  just  been  taken 
from  the  pots. 

And  now  it  became  noticeable  that  wherever 
Hope  went  a  pile  of  prettily  illustrated  pamphlets 
was  sure  to  be  close  by.  In  the  kitchen,  washing 
dishes,  kneading  bread,  peeling  apples,  overseeing 
her  cooking,  darning,  sewing  on  buttons,  what 
ever  her  task,  an  open  book  was  always  before  her, 
and  tucked  in  her  apron  pocket  were  paper  and 


138  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

pencil,  whereon  she  made  copious  notes.  The  boys 
jested  her  on  her  fits  of  abstraction  and  the  ran 
dom  answers  she  made  them,  but  she  smiled  wisely 
back  and  gave  no  hint  of  the  secret  purpose  that 
possessed  her  mind. 

For,  little  by  little,  yielding  to  the  insidious  in 
fluences  of  the  charming  catalogues,  Hope  became 
fixed  with  a  wild  ambition. 

She  wanted  to  get  all  the  different  kinds  of 
roses. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

HOPE'S   INDICTMENT. 

THE  boys,  deep  in  their  own  plans  and  duties, 
paid  little  attention  to  Hope's  flowers.  They  knew 
that  she  spent  all  her  spare  time  in  her  own  little 
garden,  and  they  noticed  the  frequent  arrival  of 
packages  by  mail,  bearing  the  stamp  of  eastern 
florists ;  but  as  fifty  roses  were  packed  in  the  same 
compass  as  one,  and  weighed  little  more,  and  as 
they  never  gave  more  than  a  careless  look  towards 
her  growing  plantation,  they  had  but  a  slight  idea 
of  the  extent  of  their  sister's  investment. 

It  all  came  out  one  evening  in  March.  They 
were  sitting  together  in  their  cosy  room,  Martin 
deep  in  a  volume  of  the  Encyclopaedia,  Ned  frown 
ing  over  his  account  book,  and  Hope,  as  usual, 
busy  with  her  catalogues.  She  had  come  very 
nearly  to  the  end  of  both  her  money  and  her  roses. 
Out  of  the  nine  hundred  varieties  named  in  the 
lists,  she  had  now  six  hundred  and  more,  and  as 
the  plants  had  been  planted  at  the  most  favorable 
season  of  the  year,  all  of  them,  with  the  exception 
of  three  or  four  delicate  varieties,  were  thriving 
finely. 

Her  one  anxiety  now  was  to  make  the  money 


140  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

she  had  left  cover  the  cost  of  the  remaining  roses, 
a  very  knotty  problem  for  a  young  girl  unused  to 
financiering,  for  the  beautiful  moss  roses,  and  some 
of  the  rarest  teas  and  hybrids,  the  most  costly  of 
all,  were  among  them. 

"Well,  Martin,"  said  Ned,  "we've  gone  away 
beyond  our  calculations  this  time.  The  repairs  on 
the  plough  and  the  new  seed  planter  made  a  big 
hole  in  our  surplus." 

"We  had  to  have  them,"  commented  Martin, 
looking  up  from  his  book. 

"  Yes,  and  we  've  got  to  have  other  things.  You 
and  I  have  got  to  have  new  boots,  or  go  barefooted 
this  spring.  Our  bran  ran  out  to-day,  and  the  cow 
must  be  properly  fed  if  we  wish  her  milk  to  keep 
up.  It  does  seem  as  if  those  pea-pods  never  will 
fill  out  this  spring.  Martin,  we  're  bankrupt !  The 
only  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  fall  back  on  Hope's 
bounty." 

Although  Ned  had  placed  the  hundred  dollars  in 
Hope's  hands  and  wanted  her  to  feel  that  she  could 
draw  freely  upon  it,  both  of  the  boys  had  under 
stood,  and  supposed  she  did,  that  it  was  in  some 
measure  a  trust  fund,  and  they  had  confidence  that 
the  little  woman  would  handle  it  wisely. 

Hope  had  dropped  her  pencil  and  paper  when 
Ned  commenced  to  speak,  and  stared  at  him  with 
wide,  anxious  eyes.  She  stood  up  when  he  finished, 
and  both  of  the  boys  wondered  at  her  pale,  startled 
face. 

"  But,  Ned,  you  said  I  could  have  it  all  —  every 
cent !  " 


HOPE'S  INDICTMENT.  141 

"  And  I  meant  it,  too,  Hope,"  said  Ned  apolo 
getically,  though  secretly  wondering  to  see  his  gen 
erous-hearted  sister  suddenly  become  so  penurious. 
"  But  you  see  how  it  is,  Hope.  Things  cost  more 
than  I  reckoned  they  would,  and  a  lot  of  extras 
came  tumbling  in.  I  have  n't  but  eighty-five  cents 
to  my  name,  Hope,  and  we  can't  count  on  anything 
from  our  peas  before  the  middle  of  April.  That 's 
a  good  four  weeks  off.  I  guess  thirty  dollars  will 
carry  us  through." 

"  But  I  have  n't  got  it,"  protested  Hope,  horror- 
stricken.  "  I  have  n't  but  eleven  dollars  left.  I 
—  I  've  spent  all  the  rest." 

"  Whe-e-ew  !  " 

Ned  silenced  his  impetuous  brother  with  but  a 
single  look,  but  he  knit  his  own  brows.  "Only 
eleven  dollars  left  ?  That 's  rough  on  us,  Hope. 
I  did  n't  know  girls'  clothes  cost  so  much  !  But  of 
course  it 's  all  right." 

He  had  entirely  forgotten  what  Hope  had  said 
at  the  time  he  had  given  the  money  into  her  keep 
ing. 

"  Clothes  !  Do  you  think  I  'd  go  and  spend  all 
that  money  for  clothes  ?  Why,  Ned,  I  did  n't  so 
much  as  buy  a  handkerchief  for  myself  nor  a  pair 
of  stockings ;  and  mine  are  darned  and  darned 
until  there  are  more  darns  than  stocking  to  them." 

"  But  what  did  you  spend  it  for,  Hope  ?  "  asked 
Ned  in  perplexity. 

"  Flowers,  —  roses.  I  told  you  I  would  like  to. 
Don't  you  remember?  Though  I  never  thought 


142  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

then —  I  didn't  know  there  were  so  many,  or 
that  they  would  cost  so  much  to  buy." 

"  A  hundred  dollars  for  that  scrubby  little  lot  of 
plants  down  by  The  Brook  path  !  Well,  I  must 
say  it  takes  a  girl  to  throw  away  a  man's  hard 
earnings !  "  Martin  burst  out  angrily,  and  the  next 
minute  most  unexpectedly  found  himself  out  on 
the  front  porch. 

But  when  Ned  turned  to  look  for  Hope,  she  had 
disappeared. 

"  Poor  little  girl !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  She 
has  toiled  so  hard,  for  more  than  a  year  and  a 
half,  without  any  of  the  amusements  other  girls 
of  her  age  enjoy.  Martin  and  I  have  worked  to 
gether,  while  she 's  been  shut  up  in  the  house  alone, 
half  the  time.  Small  wonder  she  turned  to  flowers 
for  companionship.  We  've  been  trying  to  make  a 
woman  of  her  before  her  time." 

He  went  out  of  doors  in  search  of  her,  and  some 
instinct  led  him  to  where  she  stood,  with  her  arms 
clasping  the  mottled  trunk  of  the  old  leaning  syca 
more,  down  by  the  roses,  crying  as  if  her  heart 
would  break.  Something  rose  in  his  own  throat  at 
the  sight.  He  recalled,  more  clearly  than  before, 
the  heritage  of  sorrow  and  care  that  had  descended 
upon  her  in  childhood ;  the  sickness  and  death  of 
the  dear  young  mother ;  the  patient  manner  in 
which  the  delicate  child  had  tried  to  share  the 
duties  that  had  grown  too  heavy  for  the  mother's 
failing  strength,  and  then  had  assumed  them 
wholly,  as  a  sacred  trust  left  by  the  dead.  He  re- 


HOPE'S  INDICTMENT.  143 

membered  the  shock  of  their  father's  sudden  pros 
tration,  and  the  manner  in  which  she  had  inter 
preted  his  wish  that  they  should  remain  together, 
and  then  found  a  way  to  carry  out  the  promise  they 
had  given  him,  and  bravely  upheld  her  share  — yes, 
more  than  her  share  !  —  of  their  burdens.  And 
then  to  think  that  he  and  Martin  should  so  wound 
that  gentle  heart !  It  seemed  to  Ned  that  in  all 
the  world  there  was  nothing  quite  so  pathetic  as 
the  figure  of  the  lonely  girl,  sobbing  out  her  grief 
and  pain  in  the  shadow  of  the  sycamore. 

"  There,  there,  little  sister ! "  he  said,  drawing 
her  arms  away  from  the  tree  and  making  her  sit 
down  with  him  on  a  great,  gnarled  root  which 
spread  over  the  ground  at  its  base.  "  I  'm  so  sorry 
I  said  a  word  about  the  money,  Hope.  Of  course 
you  had  a  right  to  spend  it  as  you  pleased.  Don't 
worry.  We  '11  get  along  all  right." 

"  But  it  was  mean  in  me  to  do  it.  It  was  selfish. 
It  was  worse.  I  knew  you  did  n't  expect  me  to  use 
only  just  a  little.  It  was  —  like  —  being  —  a 
thief !  " 

As  Hope  hurled  this  terrible  accusation  at  her 
self  she  broke  into  a  fresh  storm  of  sobs. 

"  Listen,  dear,"  said  Ned.  "  How  can  one  steal 
their  own  money,  Hope  ?  You  had  a  perfect  right 
to  it,  and  to  more,  too.  Why,  Hope,  we  've  handled 
several  hundred  dollars  since  we  first  came  up 
here,  and  Mart  and  I  have  kept  on  gobbling  up 
every  cent  for  improvements,  and  tools,  and  seed, 
and  fruit  trees,  and  never  so  much  as  asked  your 


144  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

approval,  when  I  'm  sure  you  had  a  clear  title  to  a 
third  of  it  all.  We  could  never  have  saved  a  cent 
of  it  if  it  had  n't  been  for  you.  Just  fancy  Martin 
and  I  up  to  our  elbows  in  bread  dough,  or  hurry 
ing  to  wash  the  dishes  so  as  to  get  out  to  plough, 
or  darning  a  pair  of  stockings  before  we  pruned  a 
tree,  or  running  in  and  out  of  the  house  to  look 
after  our  baking  while  we  were  planting,  or  iron 
ing  tablecloths  and  napkins  and  groaning  about 
the  hoeing  that  needed  to  be  done  in  the  orchard." 

Hope  laughed  a  little  at  this  picture,  as  Ned 
meant  she  should,  and  he  took  advantage  of  the 
moment  to  tack  deftly  about  to  the  sore  subject 
they  had  both  avoided. 

"  Now,  little  sister,  where  are  your  roses  ?  I 
don't  know  of  any  flower  I  like  so  well.  I  am 
going  to  get  lots  of  comfort  out  of  them  myself. 
You  must  show  them  to  me  by  daylight." 

"  If  you  would  really  like  to  see  them,  the  moon 
light  is  so  bright  I  think  you  could  now,"  answered 
Hope,  quite  encouraged  to  think  that  Ned  was  not 
disposed  to  regard  her  treasures  with  the  contempt 
Martin  had  shown.  She  led  the  way  down  the 
long  rows,  carefully  laid  out  with  stakes  and  lines, 
as  she  had  seen  the  boys  plant  their  garden  vege 
tables. 

"  Here  are  my  dark  reds,"  she  explained.  "  The 
very  darkest  of  them  is  the  Prince  Camille  de  Ro 
han,  and  they  say  that  it  looks  almost  black  at  a 
little  distance.  It  is  a  hybrid  perpetual,  and  a  shy 
bloomer.  This  row  is  the  bright  reds.  I  think 


HOPE'S  INDICTMENT.  145 

the  General  Jacqueminot  and  the  American 
Beauty  are  probably  the  finest  among  them,  but 
the  Queen's  Scarlet  must  be  beautiful,  and  the 
Queen  of  Bedders  is  a  great  bloomer.  There  are 
so  many  that  they  say  are  very  handsome  that  it 
is  hard  to  choose,  and  I  shall  have  to  wait  for 
them  to  bloom  before  deciding.  Here  are  the 
pinks.  I  think  there  are  more  of  them  than  of  any 
others,  and  the  very  freest  bloomers  are  among 
them.  The  La  France,  —  don't  you  remember 
that  beautiful  pink  rose  the  doctor  has,  that  al 
ways  blooms  in  mid-winter?  That  's  the  La 
France,  and  it  is  called  by  many  the  most  beauti 
ful  of  all  roses.  I  have  a  nice  plant  right  here  at 
the  end,  —  see  !  And  here  are  the  Hermosa,  and 
the  Bon  Silene,  and  the  Adam,  and  the  Charles  Ko- 
volli,  and  the  Appoline,  —  all  rosy  pinks  and  very 
choice,  —  and  dozens  of  others !  And  here  are  the 
blush  roses.  There  are  not  many  of  them,  and  I 
got  all  there  are  named  in  the  catalogues.  And 
the  whites  !  Such  beauties  as  some  of  them  must 
be,  Ned.  They  say  the  Niphetos  has  the  most 
beautiful  buds  of  all,  long  and  pointed.  But  the 
Bride,  and  the  Puritan,  and  the  white  Bon  Silene, 
and  the  La  Marque  are  very  fine  and  free  bloom 
ers.  Then  there  are  lots  of  yellows,  all  the  shades 
from  pale  lemon  to  deep  orange  color.  I  put  the 
mixed  salmon  and  pinks  together.  Oh,  I  'm  just 
wild  to  see  what  the  Sunset  rose  will  be  like !  But 
the  Princess  Beatrice,  the  very  choicest  and  most 
beautiful  of  the  class,  I  couldn't  get,  because  it 


146  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

cost  so  much.  And  oh,  Ned,  I  've  got  two  ever- 
blooming  moss  roses,  —  the  rarest  of  all.  There  's 
only  one  firm  in  the  United  States  that  has  them 
both." 

"  Why,  you  little  rose  fancier !  "  laughed  Ned. 
"  You  've  told  me  more  about  roses  than  I  ever 
knew  before  in  my  life." 

"  Do  you  think  they  look  very '  scrubby,'  Ned  ?  " 
Hope  asked  anxiously, 

"  On  the  contrary,"  replied  Ned,  who  had  been 
bending  down  and  closely  examining  the  plants 
from  time  to  tune,  "  I  think  they  are  remarkably 
handsome  and  vigorous.  Hope,  what  was  your 
idea  in  getting  them  ?  " 

Hope  could  have  hugged  her  big  brother,  and 
cried,  all  in  a  breath.  It  was  so  good  of  him  to 
think  that  she  might  have  had  a  plan. 

"  Mr.  Abbott  said  he  thought  somebody  might 
do  well  if  they  made  a  specialty  of  roses.  He 
thought  there  might  be  considerable  profit  in  rais 
ing  cut  flowers  for  the  San  Francisco  market." 

"Mr.  Abbott's  ideas  are  worth  considering," 
said  Ned.  "  Have  any  of  them  bloomed  yet, 
Hope  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  little  girl,  as  shocked  as  a 
mother  might  be  if  asked  whether  a  three-months- 
old  baby  had  begun  to  walk.  "  I  could  n't  think 
of  letting  them.  Most  of  them  have  budded,  but 
I  pinched  them  off.  I  sha'n't  let  them  bloom  a  bit 
before  next  spring." 

"  That 's  an  excellent  idea.    Just  the  way  I  treat 


HOPE'S  INDICTMENT.  147 

my  young  orchard  trees.     Let  them  get  plenty  of 
root  and  a  stout  growth  before  they  go  to  work." 

Ned  was  undoubtedly  a  very  soft-hearted  fellow, 
but  he  registered  a  vow  that  night  on  his  way  to 
the  house,  that  he  would  send  away  and  get  the 
Princess  Beatrice,  the  rose  Hope  wanted  so  much 
to  add  to  her  collection,  out  of  the  first  money  that 
came  in  from  the  peas  that  spring. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

HARD   TIMES. 

MARTIN  took  occasion  to  apologize  to  Hope,  in 
a  clumsy,  boyish  fashion,  for  his  angry  speech, 
so  that  renewed  confidence  and  amity  were  es 
tablished  among  the  occupants  of  Home  Ranch. 
Cheerful  as  they  all  tried  to  be,  however,  they 
could  not  disguise  from  each  other  that  they  had 
a  harsh  ordeal  before  them,  which  it  would  require 
all  their  pluck  to  meet. 

"  If  only  this  warm,  showery  weather  would 
keep  on,"  exclaimed  Ned,  one  morning  late  in 
March,  looking  out  on  his  field  of  green  peas, 
which  showed  a  perverse  inclination  to  expend  all 
their  vitality  in  blossoms,  without  attempting  to 
produce  any  pods,  "  I  believe  our  peas  would  begin 
to  come  on  inside  of  ten  days.  We  're  going  to 
have  a  magnificent  crop." 

But  it  somehow  happens  that  when  one  desires 
most  of  Nature  she  gives  least.  The  rains  sud 
denly  ceased  and  were  succeeded  by  a  period  of 
unreasonably  warm  weather,  when  the  hot  sunshine 
baked  the  earth  about  the  tender  vines  before  the 
boys  could  get  over  the  field  with  cultivator  and 
hoes.  Following  closely  upon  this  there  came  a 


HARD  TIMES.  149 

hot  "  norther,"  a  climatic  freak  peculiar  to  Cali 
fornia,  when  hot,  dry  winds  sweep  down  from  the 
North  for  three  days  in  succession,  parching  tender 
vegetation  like  a  flame.  The  vines  withstood  the 
fiery  blast,  but  the  young  pods  looked  flabby  and 
wilted,  and  recovered  only  for  a  slow  and  stunted 
growth. 

Meanwhile,  from  sections  of  the  State  which  had 
been  more  favored,  sacks  upon  sacks  of  green  peas 
began  to  reach  the  city  in  such  quantities  that  the 
market  was  soon  well  stocked. 

From  eight  and  ten  cents  a  pound,  prices  fell  to 
seven,  six,  five,  and  three  cents,  and  finally  settled 
down  to  seventy-five  cents  a  sack,  a  rate  at  which 
no  white  man  could  afford  to  pick  and  ship  them 
and  pay  commission  on  the  sales. 

"  Never  mind !  "  said  Ned  bravely.  "  We  '11  let 
them  ripen,  and  thrash  them  all  out  for  seed." 

It  was  well  along  in  May  when  the  peas  were 
sufficiently  matured  for  this  purpose,  but  the  boys 
set  to  work  and  beat  them  with  a  will,  and  after  a 
week's  hard  labor  had  twenty  sacks  of  seed  peas, 
representing  over  a  ton's  weight. 

"  That  '11  be  eighty  dollars,  at  least,"  announced 
Martin. 

"  Never  mind  reckoning  it  up,  Martin,"  replied 
Ned.  "We'll  get  everything  out  of  them  that 
there  is  to  be  had.  I  'm  most  anxious  to  see  the 
flour-bin  filled,  and  some  provisions  in  the  pantry. 
By  the  way,  Hope,  I  never  saw  anything  hold  out 
like  that  last  sack  of  flour.  It  's  certainly  hold- 


150  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

ing  out  half  as  long  again  as  any  we  ever  had 
before." 

"  Oh,  that  all  depends  —  on  knowing  —  just  how 
to  economize,  Ned,"  answered  Hope,  turning  away 
her  face,  over  which  a  tell-tale  blush  was  creeping. 

"  We  shall  have  returns  from  the  peas  on  Tues 
day,  —  only  three  days  more,"  returned  Ned  cheer 
fully.  "  I  can  get  the  check  cashed  here.  Wil- 
kins  takes  them  just  the  same  as  money,  you  know. 
He  '11  open  his  eyes  at  the  sugar  and  flour  and 
meal  and  rice  and  coffee  and  spices  I  'm  going  to 
lay  in  on  my  first  order.  Why,  Hope,  I  'm  getting 
sick  of  the  sight  of  bread,  sweet  and  wholesome  as 
it  is.  I  'm  fairly  ravenous  for  some  of  the  goodies 
you  used  to  make  when  you  had  things  to  make 
them  out  of." 

Hope  made  no  reply. 

Neither  of  the  boys  suspected  that  the  delicate 
girl  was  deliberately  reducing  her  own  allowance 
of  food,  in  atonement  for  what  she  looked  upon  as 
her  unpardonable  extravagance  in  the  matter  of 
the  roses,  and  in  order  to  make  their  provisions 
hold  out  until  the  money  from  the  peas  came  in. 
Since  their  funds  had  given  out  and  they  were 
unable  to  buy  meat,  Hope  had  insisted  upon  the 
boys  eating  fresh  eggs  twice  a  day,  to  make  up  for 
the  want  of  more  hearty  food,  and  as  their  stock 
of  poultry  was  small,  the  hens  had  all  they  could 
do  to  meet  the  demands  upon  them. 

There  were  potatoes,  —  plenty  of  them  ;  but  the 
young  girl,  who  seemed  to  have  been  endowed  at 


HARD  TIMES.  151 

her  birth  with  a  frail  body  and  a  fastidious  appe 
tite,  had  an  unaccountable  distaste  for  this  most 
useful,  healthful,  and  desirable  of  all  vegetables. 
If  there  had  been  a  skilled  cook  at  hand  to  dress 
the  simple  food  up  in  any  of  the  attractive  guises 
that  skilled  cooks  understand,  it  is  very  likely  that 
this  prejudice  might  have  been  overcome,  and  that, 
from  relishing  potatoes  in  their  more  palatable 
forms,  little  Hope  might  have  learned  to  like  them 
in  simple  ways;  but  as  it  was,  not  even  famine 
could  drive  the  young  girl  to  potatoes  in  their  plain 
forms,  boiled,  baked  or  mashed.  Bread  and  butter 
she  did  like,  but  butter  was  scarce,  and  flour  cost 
money  and  must  be  made  to  last.  But  oh!  for 
just  once  to  sit  down  to  all  the  bread  and  butter 
she  could  eat ! 

On  the  Tuesday  that  the  draft  was  expected,  Ned 
walked  into  the  village  store  with  an  air  of  confi 
dence  and  cheer  he  had  not  worn  for  months  past. 
He  asked  for  his  mail,  and  while  Mr.  Wilkins  was 
looking  over  the  pile  of  letters  tucked  in  the  pigeon 
hole  where  he  kept  the  A's,  the  boy  spoke  up :  — 

"  By  the  way,  Mr.  Wilkins,  I  see  your  team  is 
at  the  door.  Can  you  send  a  load  of  goods  up  to 
The  Brook  right  away?  " 

Mr.  Wilkins  did  not  appear  to  notice  this  in 
quiry.  He  had  drawn  out  a  postal  card,  with  a 
written  address  on  one  side  and  a  printed  blank  on 
the  other,  the  conventional  form  used  by  commis 
sion  men  in  making  reports  to  the  farmers.  It 
was  generally  believed,  throughout  the  valley,  that 


152  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Mr.  Wilkins  was  in  the  habit  of  reading  these 
postal  cards,  and  more  than  one  of  the  fruit-grow 
ers,  proud  of  their  reputation  as  horticulturists  and 
conscious  that  they  had  made  shipments  a  little  be 
low  the  average,  which  might  bring  humiliating 
returns,  had  been  known  to  hasten  down  to  the 
post-office  at  breathless  speed,  about  the  time  of 
the  arrival  of  the  train,  to  get  their  mail  when 
the  bag  was  first  opened,  and  before  Mr.  Wilkins 
should  have  time  to  read  the  postals. 

Instead  of  the  usual  returns,  Ned  saw  the  date 
and  signature  stamped  on  the  card,  and,  written 
across  the  lines,  in  a  large,  clear  hand,  were  the 
words,  not  in  the  choicest  of  language :  — 

"  Peas  no  good.     All  full  of  weevils." 

Now  whether  Mr.  Wilkins  read  the  postals  or 
not,  if  he  had  done  so  in  this  case  his  conduct 
certainly  justified  the  act.  He  leaned  over  the 
counter  and  laid  one  hand  on  the  arm  of  Ned,  who, 
looking  dazed  and  troubled,  was  turning  to  leave 
the  store. 

"  Don't  you  want  the  things  you  spoke  of,  Aus 
tin  ?  Your  credit 's  good  here.  Don't  forget 
that." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Wilkins,"  said  Ned,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  But  I  'd  rather  not.  Not  to-day,  any 
how." 

Dr.  John  had  come  in  by  another  entrance,  and 
was  standing  a  little  way  off,  with  a  wire  cheese- 
box  between  him  and  his  young  neighbor.  He  had 
heard  the  boy's  light-hearted  inquiry  and  remark, 


HARD  TIMES.  153 

then  noted  his  sudden  look  of  discouragement  as 
he  read  the  postal,  and  —  becoming  a  willful  eaves 
dropper,  it  must  be  owned  —  listened  to  the  subse 
quent  dialogue. 

The  doctor  instantly  decided  that  there  was 
trouble  at  Home  Ranch.  After  Ned  had  taken  his 
leave,  Dr.  John  interrogated  Mr.  Wilkins,  and 
found  that  gentleman  only  too  ready  to  talk. 

"  It 's  my  opinion  them  young  friends  of  yours 
are  living  on  air !  "  frankly  declared  the  grocer. 
"  What  else  they  got  to  live  on  ?  Only  one  sack 
of  flour  since  the  first  of  January  ;  no  sugar,  no 
oatmeal,  no  coffee  ;  and  the  butcher  says  he  haint 
sold  them  a  pound  of  meat  since  March." 

Dr.  John  jumped  into  his  buggy  and  drove  furi 
ously  towards  home.  Where  had  his  own  eyes 
been  ?  What  had  he  been  thinking  of,  that  he 
should  have  been  so  blind  to  the  happenings  at 
Home  Ranch  ?  He  believed  it  was  because  there 
had  been  so  many  babies  that  spring,  and  the  last 
year's  babies  were  all  teething.  He  would  lose  no 
time  now  in  learning  the  true  state  of  affairs. 

He  drove  directly  to  the  stable  and  put  up  his 
horse,  and  was  walking  rapidly  off  in  the  direction 
of  The  Brook,  when  Wing's  sharp  eye  espied  him. 

"  Missee  Docta' !  " 

"Well,  Wing?" 

"  Somebody  wantee  see  you.  Littee  lady  in 
housee." 

Dr.  John  felt  almost  aggrieved  at  the  news.  He 
had  made  his  daily  round  of  calls  all  over  the  conn- 


154  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

try,  and  wanted  a  little  time  to  himself.  If  people 
would  only  observe  some  method  about  getting 
sick!  Who  could  the  "  littee  lady  "  be?  Mani 
festly  some  one  who  had  come  on  foot,  for  there 
was  no  horse  at  the  gate  or  at  the  carriage  steps 
before  the  front  door. 

It  was  Hope.  The  busy  little  housewife  so  rarely 
found  time  to  leave  home,  and  was  so  very  timid 
about  crossing  the  hanging  bridge,  that  Dr.  John 
was  surprised  to  see  her.  How  tall  and  slight  she 
seemed  to  have  grown  in  the  last  few  weeks !  And 
how  pale  she  was,  with  just  a  little  nervous  flush  in 
each  cheek.  That  color  was  not  natural ;  he  must 
look  into  it  afterwards  ;  but  first  to  learn  her  er 
rand,  which  she  was  evidently  restless  to  discharge. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Hope,"  he  said 
gravely.  "  What  can  I  do  for  you  to-day  ?  " 

"Dr.  John,  do  you  think  you  could  lend  me 
twenty  dollars,  and  take  this  and  keep  it  until  I 
can  pay  you  back?  " 

She  held  out  a  little  package  wrapped  in  tissue 
paper,  and,  removing  the  wrappings,  brought  to 
view  a  small  open-faced  silver  watch,  which  had 
belonged  to  her  mother. 

"  Is  it  worth  enough  ?  I  am  afraid  it  is  very 
old-fashioned,"  she  said. 

The  doctor  took  it  and  examined  it  critically, 
opening  the  case  and  looking  closely  at  the  works. 

"  It  is  a  very  nice  little  watch,"  he  said.  "  I 
would  not  hesitate  to  lend  any  one  twice  twenty 
dollars  upon  it." 


HARD  TIMES.  155 

Does  the  Recording  Angel  take  account  of  such 
generous  equivocations  ?  If  he  does,  Dr.  John  will 
some  day  have  a  heavy  score  to  meet. 

"  Then  could  you  please  lend  me  twenty-five  dol 
lars  ?  "  asked  Hope  eagerly.  "  Because,  if  you  can, 
I  'd  like  it  right  now,  doctor,  so  I  can  get  down 
to  the  store  before  "  — 

As  suddenly  as  the  color  came  it  faded,  and  she 
slipped  down,  white  and  senseless,  at  the  doctor's 
feet. 

"  My  God,  she  is  starving !  "  cried  the  doctor, 
gathering  her  in  his  arms  —  ah,  how  light  the  bur 
den  !  —  and  laying  her  on  the  sofa. 

He  touched  an  electric  button  and  Ah  Wing 
appeared,  just  as  Dr.  John  had  removed  the  little 
straw  hat  and  pushed  back  the  waving  brown  hair 
from  the  white  forehead,  laying  a  wet  cloth  across 
it  and  sprinkling  a  little  water  on  her  face. 

"  Gottee  clottee  blood  on  blain.  You  bleed  him, 
he  all  light,"  volunteered  Ah  Wing,  who  looked 
upon  these  proceedings  with  undisguised  disfavor. 

Ah  Wing  liked  the  doctor  very  well  as  a  man, 
but  he  openly  disapproved  of  him  as  a  physician. 

"Wing,"  said  Dr.  John,  "  get  me  a  cup  of  strong 
coffee  and  a  slice  of  buttered  toast,  as  quick  as  you 
can." 

"  You  bleed  him  !  Coffee  toast  no  make  him 
well,"  insisted  Ah  Wing  obstinately. 

"  Get  out  of  here  and  do  what  I  tell  you,  you 
rascal! "  growled  the  doctor,  and  Wing,  who  knew 
very  well  the  point  at  which  he  must  draw  a  line 


156  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

in  offering  professional  advice  to  his  master,  beat 
a  hasty  retreat. 

Hope  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  about  her  a 
moment  in  bewilderment.  Then  she  tried  to  sit 
up. 

"  I  don't  know  what  came  over  me,  doctor.  I 
never  —  felt  that  way  before.  I  must  be  going. 
It 's  late,  and  the  store  —  will  be  closed ;  and 
there  's  the  baking  to  do  —  and  dinner  "  — 

"  Hush !  "  commanded  the  doctor,  so  gently  and 
yet  with  such  decision  that  Hope  dared  not  dis 
obey. 

It  was  so  pleasant  just  to  lie  still  in  the  comfort 
able,  sunny  room ;  and  when  Wing  came  with  the 
cup  of  fragrant  coffee  and  the  great  slice  of  golden- 
brown  toast,  and  a  little  jelly  that  he  had  added 
of  his  own  accord,  she  sat  up  and  ate  quite  obedi 
ently,  and  wondered  to  feel  so  refreshed.  That 
horrible,  gnawing  sensation  she  had  suffered  all 
day  long  was  entirely  gone. 

But  when  she  had  finished  eating,  and  Wing  had 
carried  off  the  tray,  Dr.  John  came  up  to  her,  and 
there  was  lightning  in  his  eye. 

"  Hope,"  he  said  shortly,  "  why  did  n't  you  tell 
me  you  had  n't  enough  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Oh,  doctor !  "  she  cried,  "  don't  tell  the  boys  !  " 

She  burst  into  tears  like  a  detected  criminal. 

"  They  had  enough.  Indeed  they  had  enough," 
she  explained,  after  she  had  rallied.  "  It  was  only 
me.  I  did  n't  work  hard  like  them.  I  could  ktand 
it  better.  And,  besides,  Dr.  John,  you  don't  know. 


HARD  TIMES.  157 

You  don't  understand  how  it  came  about.  It  was 
my  fault.  I  used  up  the  money." 

And  forthwith  Hope  told  the  whole  story  of  her 
embezzlement. 

The  most  she  hoped  was  that  Dr.  John  would 
say  she  had  done  all  she  could  to  atone  for  her 
fault.  Instead,  he  smiled  pleasantly  upon  her. 

"  I  am  like  Ned,"  he  said.  "  I  am  interested  in 
the  roses." 

Hope  went  back  home,  and  the  doctor  went  to 
the  grocer's  ;  but  he  took  with  him  an  order,  made 
out  and  signed  by  the  young  girl,  and  Ned  paid  for 
the  goods  upon  their  arrival  at  the  banks  of  The 
Brook,  so  that  the  young  people's  dignity  was  not 
compromised ;  but  before  Hope  left  Dr.  John's 
house,  he  made  her  promise  that  she  would  never 
again  allow  matters  on  Home  Ranch  to  come  to 
such  a  pass  without  telling  him. 

"  It  would  grieve  me  very  sorely  to  think  that 
you  had  not  sufficient  confidence  in  me  for  that," 
he  said,  looking  sadly  at  her. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE   SECOND   SEASON. 

THE  second  summer,  by  tacit  consent,  Hope  took 
her  place  as  a  co-worker  with  her  brothers,  in  all 
that  a  quick,  active  girl  was  capable  of  doing,  and 
from  this  date  on  the  indoor  and  outdoor  work  of 
Home  Ranch  progressed  in  a  manner  quite  satis 
factory  to  them  all. 

They  had  many  bothers  that  they  would  not 
have  had  if  they  had  been  grown  people,  and  yet 
as  a  rule  they  managed  to  set  them  aside  as  only 
children  can.  Grown  people  —  the  best  of  them 
—  are  slaves  to  many  customs  and  conventionalities 
that  young  people  are  not  afraid  to  defy.  So  it 
came  about  that  on  days  when  the  boys  were  glad 
to  have  Hope's  help  out  of  doors,  they  did  not  hesi 
tate  to  help  a  little  with  the  housework,  and  they 
took  pains  to  dispense  with  everything  that  made 
unnecessary  work. 

In  her  housework  Hope  actually  made  a  study 
of  doing  things  in  the  shortest  possible  ways,  which 
everybody  knows  no  really  proper  housewife  would 
ever  tolerate.  She  had  an  old-fashioned  cook-book, 
written  and  published  years  before,  but  still  much 
after  the  style  of  modern  cook-books,  whose  ruling 


THE  SECOND  SEASON.  159 

purpose  seems  to  be  to  show  what  elaborate  dishes 
can  be  elaborately  wrought  from  simple  materials. 
Hope  was  obliged  to  consult  this  book,  because  she 
did  not  know  how  to  cook  many  things,  and  it  was 
all  the  authority  she  had ;  but  she  had  an  iniqui 
tous  way  of  circumventing  its  recipes. 

"  Six  eggs,  yolks  and  whites  beaten  separately, 
for  half  an  hour,  with  a  wire  whisk.  What  an 
absurd  idea !  When  you  can  beat  them,  and  beat 
them,  and  beat  them,  and  they  will  never  get  a 
particle  lighter  after  the  first  five  minutes.  Add 
two  cupful s  of  sugar  rubbed  smooth  with  one  cup 
ful  of  butter.  No,  you  don't !  I  know  very  well 
that  it  will  taste  just  the  same  if  the  butter  is 
melted,  and  melted  right  in  the  baking  pan,  so  that 
will  be  greased  at  the  same  time.  Have  n't  I  tried 
it  over  and  over  again  ?  A  cupful  of  milk,  and 
two  teaspoonfuls  of  baking  powder.  I  shall  put 
everything  together  and  beat  them  up,  with  the 
flour  and  baking  powder  added  at  the  last.  Five 
minutes'  beating  will  do  just  as  well  as  an  hour." 

This  was  a  specimen  of  the  contests  Hope  waged 
with  the  cook-book,  and  it  must  be  acknowledged 
that  she  generally  came  off  victorious. 

The  house  was  clean,  and  well  aired,  and  reason 
ably  tidy,  and  homelike.  The  dishes  were  always 
clean  and  shining.  The  simple  meals  were  well 
cooked  and  daintily  served,  and  flavored  with  cheer 
and  a  sweet  temper  ;  and  altogether  they  were 
about  as  comfortable  as  ever  were  three  young 
people  flung  on  their  own  resources. 


160  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

It  so  happened  that  this  was  a  season  of  heavy 
crops  in  all  parts  of  the  State.  If  they  had  pos 
sessed  a  sufficient  acreage  in  bearing  fruits,  they 
would  have  still  secured  an  excellent  income,  even 
with  the  low  prices  that  ruled  the  market.  A  few 
boxes  of  early  cherries  sold  at  an  excellent  rate, 
but  when  they  found  that  apricots  and  peaches 
were  quoted  at  but  twenty  to  thirty  dollars  a  ton 
for  the  finest  qualities,  they  were  discouraged. 

"  It  does  n't  look  as  if  they  would  pay  for  the 
picking,"  confessed  Ned,  in  reply  to  an  inquiry 
from  Dr.  John.  "  When  we  come  to  pay  freight, 
and  cartage,  and  commission,  and  reckon  on  boxes 
being  lost  or  unsold,  —  for  I  hear  they  find  it  hard 
to  sell  all  the  fruit  that  comes  in  some  days  of  the 
week,  and  ours  is  by  no  means  the  first  quality,  — 
why,  you  can  see  for  yourself,  Dr.  John,  it  does  n't 
leave  any  margin." 

"  Dry  them." 

"  But  we  have  no  evaporator,  no  machine  of  any 
kind." 

"  You  need  none.  In  other  parts  of  the  world, 
where  rain  comes  at  any  or  all  seasons,  it  is  very 
necessary  to  resort  to  artificial  methods.  Here, 
where  we  are  sure  of  dry,  sunny  weather  through 
out  the  season,  there  is  no  necessity  for  such  ma 
chines.  The  markets  of  the  world  cannot  produce 
anything  to  excel  our  sun-dried  California  fruits. 
I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  approve  of  the  sulphur 
ing  process  ;  but  it  not  only  improves  the  appear 
ance  of  the  fruit,  it  is  the  only  process  known  that 


THE  SECOND  SEASON.  161 

effectually  protects  it  from  the  attacks  of  insects 
after  it  is  cured.  We  have  never  had  an  instance 
of  any  one  being  harmed  by  eating  it,  and  I  think, 
on  the  whole,  I  prefer  to  take  my  chances  on  the 
sulphured  fruit,  rather  than  to  run  the  risk  of  diet 
ing  on  worms." 

Acting  on  the  doctor's  advice,  the  boys  procured 
several  bunches  of  laths  and  made  some  fifty  trays, 
three  by  four  feet  in  dimensions.  Upon  these  they 
spread  their  apricots,  after  first  halving  and  ston 
ing  them  by  one  quick  pressure  of  a  knife-blade. 

A  year  later  they  bought  a  little  machine,  oper 
ated  by  hand,  which  did  this  work  in  half  the  time 
it  could  be  accomplished  with  a  knife ;  but  this 
year  time  was  plentiful  and  money  scarce  with 
them,  and  they  had  to  be  content  with  the  old- 
fashioned  method.  They  then  placed  the  trays,  in 
piles  of  three,  upon  the  ground,  and  covered  them 
with  a  tight,  box-shaped  frame,  with  a  bit  of  sul 
phur  burning  in  a  hollow  on  the  ground  beneath. 
After  twenty  minutes'  subjection  to  the  fumes,  they 
uncovered  the  trays  and  spread  them  out  upon  the 
ground  in  a  sunny  spot  south  of  the  house,  where 
the  fruit  cured  perfectly  in  three  days,  and  only 
needed  to  be  heaped  up  a  day  and  a  night,  covered 
with  gunny-sacking,  to  go  through  what  was  called 
the  "  sweating  process,"  which  had  the  effect  of 
evenly  distributing  what  little  moisture  was  left  in 
it.  After  this  they  tied  it  up  in  sacks  of  plain, 
unbleached  muslin.  Their  peaches  they  dried  in 
the  same  manner,  first  peeling  them  by  plunging 
them  into  a  quick  bath  of  scalding  lye. 


162  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Although  this  was  only  the  second  year's  growth 
of  their  young  orchard,  the  adventurous  little 
French  prunes  and  the  almonds  came  bravely  into 
bloom,  and  the  former  yielded  nearly  six  hundred 
pounds  of  fruit.  These  they  dried  without  stoning, 
merely  giving  them  a  quick  dip  in  the  lye  they 
used  for  peeling  the  peaches,  and  another  dip  into 
cold  water,  the  object  being  to  cut  the  skins  slightly 
and  hasten  the  process  of  drying,  thus  improving 
both  the  appearance  and  the  flavor  of  the  fruit. 
They  found  that  whereas  all  of  the  other  fruit  lost 
from  four-fifths  to  six-sevenths  of  its  weight  in  cur 
ing,  the  French  prunes  did  not  lose  more  than  half, 
and  the  three  hundred  pounds  of  dried  fruit  con 
tributed  by  the  young  orchard  formed  a  welcome 
addition  to  their  season's  crop. 

When  they  came  to  market  it,  the  entire  yield 
did  not  bring  them  any  extravagant  sum,  but  it 
represented  a  very  fair  price  for  the  fruit  in  its 
fresh  state,  which  they  could  not  have  secured  that 
year  in  any  other  manner,  and  they  felt  that  there 
after  they  should  know  what  to  do  in  a  dull  season. 

The  almonds  and  walnuts  in  the  old  orchard 
helped  to  swell  the  season's  product,  the  steady 
yield  of  these  trees  under  good  treatment,  as  well 
as  the  long  age  to  which  they  live,  being  qualities 
that  have  brought  them  into  wide  popularity.  The 
new  orchard  yielded  only  a  few  handfuls  of  alm 
onds,  and  these  they  took  for  their  own  use. 

From  the  vineyard  they  expected  nothing  until 
the  third  year,  knowing  that  a  conservative  grape- 


THE  SECOND  SEASON.  163 

vine  takes  that  space  of  time  to  muster  its  powers 
of  bearing. 

They  had  cultivated  the  vines  faithfully,  keeping 
them  free  from  weeds,  and  pruned  them  back,  after 
the  conservative  plan  everywhere  practiced  with 
such  success.  This  consisted  in  keeping  the  first 
growth  of  the  vines  free  from  canes,  to  a  height  of 
some  ten  inches  above  the  ground,  so  as  to  form  a 
stout  little  trunk,  then  cutting  back  the  abundant 
growth  so  as  to  leave  but  two  or  three  buds  on  each 
branch.  Whenever  a  cane  grew  in  a  downward 
direction  or  across  the  path  of  another,  or  wherever 
there  were  superfluous  canes,  they  were  carefully 
cut  away ;  but  late  in  the  spring  they  were  left 
alone  for  the  season. 

Probably  no  one  would  have  gone  near  the  vine 
yard  again,  that  season,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
coyotes. 

One  night  about  the  middle  of  September  they 
were  awakened  by  the  sound  of  a  light  rain  falling, 
an  unusual  occurrence  at  that  season  of  the  year. 
At  the  same  time  they  heard  a  loud  noise  from  the 
direction  of  the  chicken  house,  as  of  some  poor 
hen  in  mortal  agony. 

Dressing  themselves  hastily  they  found  one  of 
their  finest  fowls  down  upon  the  ground,  cackling 
desperately,  with  one  wing  drooping  and  a  large 
patch  of  feathers  gone  from  the  injured  side. 

"  I  know  just  how  it  was  !  "  cried  Martin  in  ex 
citement.  "  She  was  at  the  end  of  the  roof,  next 
to  the  lattice  work,  when  I  shut  them  up.  That 


164  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

thing  or  those  things,  whatever  they  are,  that  have 
been  catching  the  chickens  lately,  tried  to  snatch 
her." 

"You  stay  here,"  said  Ned,  "while  I  get  the 
lantern.  It 's  just  rained  enough  to  moisten  the 
top  of  the  ground,  so  as  to  show  the  creature's 
tracks.  We  '11  find  out  what  it  is  and  where  it 's 
gone." 

But  when  the  lantern  was  brought,  and  the  boys 
found  a  track  like  a  large  dog's,  with  the  print  of 
four  toes  plainly  marked,  they  were  no  nearer  the 
solution  than  ever. 

"  Let  us  see  which  way  it  went,  anyhow."  pro 
posed  Martin,  catching  up  the  lantern  and  begin 
ning  to  examine  the  ground. 

They  traced  the  animal  up  past  the  spring, 
across  towards  the  vineyard,  and  finally  lost  the 
track  among  the  vines.  Bending  down  to  search 
among  the  trailing  canes,  Ned  found  something 
else. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Martin,  here  are  —  grapes !  " 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Martin.  "  Can't  be.  Grapes 
never  come  into  bearing  until  the  third  year.  The 
Encyclopedia  says  so." 

"  Can't  help  it.  Look  for  yourself.  Here  are 
some  more  —  and  here  —  and  here !  I  can  feel 
them  where  I  can't  see  them." 

Martin  looked  and  was  convinced.  Here,  there, 
and  everywhere  were  grapes.  It  was  a  very  light 
crop,  it  is  true,  and  the  bunches  were  none  of  them 
of  the  great  size  produced  by  older  vines,  but  what 


THE  SECOND  SEASON.  165 

they  lacked  collectively,  they  made  up  individually, 
for  the  single  grapes  were  of  unusual  size,  although 
there  were  few  bunches  that  would  have  weighed 
more  than  half  a  pound. 

Early  next  morning  they  all  went  up  to  the 
vineyard.  The  little  sprinkle  of  rain  was  over, 
and  the  day  bright  and  cloudless. 

It  seemed  really  surprising  that  none  of  them, 
in  passing,  had  noticed  the  green  and  amber 
bunches  hanging  amid  the  clustering  leaves.  What 
delight  it  was  to  gather  them,  snipping  off  the 
stems  with  sharp-pointed  scissors,  laying  them 
warily  in  the  baskets,  and  even  more  cautiously 
into  the  boxes,  that  the  delicate  bloom  which 
makes  the  beauty  of  the  grape  might  not  be  rubbed 
off. 

The  young  fruit  growers  were  quite  exultant  over 
the  wonderful  yield  of  their  two-year-old  vineyard, 
and  anxious  to  share  their  experiences  with  some 
one  else  who  would  publish  the  news  abroad.  It 
so  happened  that  Dr.  John,  called  to  a  considerable 
distance  by  an  urgent  summons,  did  not  come  over, 
after  his  usual  custom.  Instead,  Mike  McCrary 
lounged  lazily  down  the  trail,  accompanied  by  two 
dogs,  and  with  his  gun  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Look  here,  will  you,  Mike  !  "  called  Martin, 
as  the  visitor  approached.  "  You  know  when  we 
came  up  here  ;  just  two  years  ago  this  fall.  Well, 
sir,  we  set  out  these  vines  the  spring  after  that, 
and  see  what  we  're  taking  off  them  now  !  " 

"  Pretty  good  show !  "  said  Mike,  helping  him- 


166  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

self  to  a  bunch,  but  failing  entirely  in  the  enthusi 
asm  Martin  had  expected  from  him.  "  Heap  of 
work  to  put  'em  in,  and  a  pile  of  work  to  pick 
'em  ! " 

"There  isn't  much  of  anything  worth  having 
that  does  n't  demand  work,  I  take  it,"  said  Ned, 
gravely. 

In  spite  of  themselves,  both  of  the  boys  could 
not  help  liking  this  good-natured,  improvident 
young  fellow ;  but  Ned  never  let  a  chance  go  by  to 
score  a  point  against  his  way  of  life. 

Mike  made  no  reply.  Apparently  he  was  not 
listening  at  all,  but  was  watching  his  dogs,  which 
ran  hither  and  thither,  their  noses  close  to  the 
ground,  now  and  then  lifting  their  heads  to  give 
an  expressive  bark  and  look  at  their  master  —  or 
which  was  the  master  ?  In  this  case  Mike  promptly 
acknowledged  his  subjection. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  Bose  ?  What 's  up,  Fanny  ? 
They  smell  some  wild  thing,"  he  explained.  "  Most 
likely  a  jack  rabbit  or  a  squirrel." 

"  Perhaps  it 's  the  creature  that 's  been  carrying 
off  our  chickens.  It  ran  off  through  the  vineyard, 
last  night." 

"  No  !  "  exclaimed  Mike,  his  interest  at  once 
awakened.  "  You  seen  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ned,  "  but  we  found  its  tracks." 

"  W7here  be  they  ?  "  demanded  Mike  in  excite 
ment,  starting  up  at  once.  "  Just  let  me  see  them  !  " 

"  Right  over  here  is  one,"  said  Martin,  leading 
the  way  to  a  place  he  had  protected  with  tall 
sticks,  to  keep  it  from  being  tramped  over. 


THE  SECOND  SEASON.  167 

"  Coyote  !  "  pronounced  Mike  with  the  air  of  an 
oracle,  after  examining  the  track.  "Didn't  you 
get  a  pop  at  it  ?  " 

"  We  have  no  gun,"  said  Martin. 

"Whew!  That's  too  bad,"  declared  the  Mc- 
Crary,  with  undisguised  compassion.  "  I  'd  loan 
you  mine,  I  vum,  but  how  'd  I  git  along  without  it, 
say?" 

"  Oh,  we  've  got  the  chickens  protected  now  so 
that  they  're  in  no  danger,"  replied  Ned.  "  We 
have  n't  time  to  go  hunting,  Mike." 

"  Then  I  '11  loan  you  my  traps,"  proposed  the 
free-hearted  fellow,  rather  proud,  for  once,  to  have 
something  to  lend,  for  two  years  living  in  close 
proximity  had  developed  a  very  neighborly  spirit 
on  the  part  of  the  McCrarys. 

"I'll  be  very  glad  to  have  them,"  said  Ned, 
frankly.  "  Now,  Mike,  as  you  have  dropped  in 
this  afternoon,  I  have  a  proposition  to  make  to  you. 
There,  Martin,  that 's  the  last  of  the  fruit.  I  'm 
going  to  leave  you  and  Hope  to  get  it  boxed  up, 
while  I  go  up  the  hill  a  ways  with  Mike." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A    PROJECT    AND    AN    ADVENTURE. 

WONDERING  greatly,  Mike  followed  Ned  up  the 
steep  trail  until  they  reached  a  point  where  it  com 
manded  a  view  of  the  entire  hillside. 

"  This  is  the  north  side  of  the  hill,"  began  Ned, 
"  and  for  two  or  three  hundred  yards  along  here, 
with  the  exception  of  one  place,  it 's  all  a  deep, 
soft  soil.  Now  suppose,  instead  of  following  this 
steep  trail  and  getting  to  the  top  all  in  a  breath 
and  all  out  of  breath,  we  should  cut  a  road,  at  an 
easy  grade,  along  the  hill  there,  and  then  returning 
back  this  way,  then  taking  another  turn  back  there, 
and  then  on,  over  that  little  knoll,  till  we  reach  the 
thick  timber  on  your  quarter-section.  It'll  be 
tough  work  to  do  it,  but  it 's  practicable. 

"Now  what  I've  been  thinking  is  this.  You 
want  a  road  out  of  your  place,  and  we  want  a  way 
out  of  ours.  To  connect  with  the  county  road  from 
your  place  will  be  a  much  longer  stretch  than  this, 
but  not  so  hard,  because  there  are  only  trees  and 
stones  in  the  way.  You  take  hold  and  help  us 
with  this,  and  we  '11  take  hold  and  help  you  with 
that.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"I  —  don't  —  know,"  drawled  Mike,  very   con- 


A  PROJECT  AND  AN  ADVENTURE.        169 

servative,  as  indolent  people  always  are,  about  com 
mitting  himself  to  any  scheme  that  involved  physi 
cal  exertion.  "  I  'm  not  sure  ef  it  can  be  did. 
How  you  goin'  to  git  round  that  ledge  of  rock 
that  sticks  out  yonder  ?  " 

"  Go  through  it,"  replied  Ned  readily.  "  Giant 
powder  will  do  the  work  in  no  time.  I  was  talk 
ing  with  Dr.  John  about  it  yesterday." 

"  What  'd  he  think  about  the  whole  concern  ?  " 
demanded  Mike  cautiously. 

"  He  said  it  could  be  done.  But  —  shall  I  tell 
you  exactly  what  he  said  ?  "  concluded  Ned,  des 
perately. 

"Ye-es.     Why  not?" 

"  Well,  he  said  I  'd  never  get  any  of  the  Mc- 
Crarys  to  take  hold  with  me.  He  said  you,  Mike, 
would  lounge  around  the  hills  all  day  with  your 
gun,  or  sit  up  and  watch  a  rat-hole  all  night,  but 
that  you  'd  bolt  into  the  next  county  at  the  mention 
of  honest  work." 

Mike's  face  reddened  through  its  stippling  of 
freckles. 

"He  said  that,  did  he?"  he  observed  slowly. 
"Dr.  John  said  that?  Well,  I'd  jest  like  to 
knock  the  doctor  out  on  that  statement  of  his,  an' 
when  you  git  ready  to  make  the  road,  jest  you  let 
me  know."  % 

When  the  young  people  came  to  cast  up  their 
accounts  that  fall,  they  could  not  help  regarding  it 
as  a  fairly  prosperous  year,  but  it  must  be  con 
fessed  that  it  had  had  its  drawbacks.  Life,  even 


170  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

on  a  California  ranch,  is  not  all  composed  of  red- 
letter  days,  and  a  series  of  calamities  may  cast 
shadows  over  the  sunniest  hours. 

They  had  established  a  colony  of  cats  upon  the 
ranch,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  exterminating  the 
gophers  that  troubled  them,  but  the  latter  had 
nevertheless  destroyed  the  finest  of  their  old  fig- 
trees,  while  the  cats  had  ravaged  birds'  nests  that 
Hope  had  discovered  in  the  spring,  and  watched 
with  tender  interest.  The  worst  of  it  was  that 
Grimalkin  made  no  distinctions  in  the  bird  family, 
except  in  favor  of  the  most  tender  and  luscious 
morsels,  and  seized  upon  the  young  birds  whenever 
she  found  them  plump  and  juicy,  and  with  not  too 
many  feathers  to  impede  feline  digestion.  So  it 
came  to  pass  that  the  wrens  that  built  on  the 
kitchen  roof,  the  robins  that  built  in  the  walnut 
tree,  the  swallows  that  built  under  the  smoke 
house  eaves,  the  meadow  lark  whose  nest  they  had 
found  on  the  ground  in  the  vineyard,  three  nests 
of  goldfinches  in  the  peach  trees,  as  well  as  the 
woodpeckers  in  the  hollow  sycamore  down  by  the 
brook,  all  mourned  the  loss  of  their  offspring, 
while  the  linnets,  yellow-hammers  and  blue-jays, 
most  mischievous  and  destructive  of  fruit-eating 
and  nut-boring  birds,  raised  their  young  families 
in  comparative  security. 

They  also  mourned  the  loss  of  some  of  their 
finest  poultry,  but  the  handsome  skins  of  two  co 
yotes,  tanning  by  a  simple  process  studied  up  by 
the  boys,  bore  witness  to  the  efficacy  of  Mike 
McCrary's  traps. 


A  PBOJECT  AND  AN  ADVENTURE.        171 

The  few  small  bunches  of  grapes  found  on  the 
Sultana  vines,  and  the  straggling  remnant  left  on 
the  Muscat  after  the  finer  ones  had  been  marketed, 
the  young  ranchers  decided  to  convert  into  raisins, 
and  the  Encyclopaedia  taught  them  how  to  cure 
these. 

They  found  that  to  produce  a  good  raisin  it  was 
necessary  to  let  the  grapes  remain  on  the  vines  un 
til  they  became  a  rich  amber,  tinged  with  brown, 
showing  that  the  full  measure  of  saccharine  matter 
had  found  its  way  into  the  fruit.  To  satisfy  them 
selves  of  the  best  method  of  curing,  they  tried 
various  experiments.  They  twisted  some  of  the 
stems,  and  cut  others  half-way  through  with  a  pen 
knife,  and  left  them  to  cure  upon  the  vines.  Some 
they  cut  off  and  laid  upon  the  ground  between  the 
vines.  Others  they  hung  along  cords  stretched 
between  the  orchard  trees.  A  few  were  dipped  in 
a  weak  solution  of  lye  and  laid  with  others,  in  the 
natural  state,  upon  the  fruit-trays  in  the  sun. 

Half  of  the  grapes  left  hanging  on  the  vines  and 
spread  out  upon  the  ground  were  destroyed  by  bees 
and  hornets,  the  latter  especially  proving  most  vo 
racious  pests,  attacking  whole  bunches  and  leaving 
nothing  but  withered  stems  and  hollow  skins. 
The  grapes  that  were  dipped  in  lye  resisted  the 
attacks  of  insects,  but  the  lye  seemed  to  impart  to 
them  a  peculiar,  candied  consistency,  which  changed 
the  character  of  the  raisin  and  detracted  from  its 
flavor.  The  bunches  hung  upon  lines,  and  the 
grapes  spread  upon  the  trays  made  smaller  raisins 


172  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

than  those  cured  upon  the  ground,  but  as  they  had 
been  easily  protected  by  mosquito  bar  from  the 
ravages  of  insects,  these  were  voted  the  most  prac 
ticable  processes  to  be  used  in  the  future. 

The  young  people  observed  that  the  "  clothesline 
raisins,"  as  they  dubbed  those  on  the  lines,  cured 
in  less  than  two-thirds  the  time  required  by  the 
others,  a  very  important  advantage,  in  view  of  the 
danger  of  rain  during  the  raisin-curing  season. 

The  California  vine  -  grower  and  raisin  -  curer 
watches  sky  and  clouds,  during  late  October,  with 
as  great  anxiety  and  apprehension  as  ever  a  New 
England  farmer  feels  during  the  haying  season. 

The  part  that  the  Encyclopedia  played  in  life 
at  Home  Ranch  had  its  humorous  as  well  as  its 
serious  side.  They  consulted  it  on  every  imagina 
ble  occasion.  Birds  and  wild  flowers  were  identi 
fied  by  means  of  it.  When  caterpillars  attacked 
the  trees,  and  slugs  made  a  raid  upon  the  roses, 
and  galls  appeared  upon  the  fruit-tree  leaves,  and 
ants  swarmed  around  the  drying-trays,  the  Ency 
clopaedia  taught  them  the  remedies.  Hope  learned 
from  it  a  trick  of  making  butter  come  with  five 
minutes'  churning,  on  the  warm  days  when  butter 
did  not  want  to  come  at  all.  The  boys  learned 
how  to  graft  and  bud  the  fruit-trees  successfully, 
through  its  illustrated  descriptions.  In  short,  it 
offered  generous  help  in  every  department  of  their 
labor,  and  one  night  it  averted  a  most  grievous 
calamity. 


A  PROJECT  AND  AN  ADVENTURE.        173 

That  evening  Ned  had  occasion  to  visit  the  shed 
in  the  corral,  where  their  hay  was  stored,  and  re 
turned  in  great  excitement. 

"  Martin !  Hope  !  "  he  called,  running  back  to 
wards  the  house.  "Just  come  over  here.  I've 
found  the  prettiest  little  squirrel  you  ever  saw. 
It 's  striped  like  a  zebra,  with  black  and  gold. 
And  it's  quite  tame.  I  almost  stepped  on  it  be 
fore  I  saw  it." 

Brother  and  sister  hastened  out  to  join  him. 

"  I  'm  so  glad  !  "  panted  Hope.  "  I  've  always 
wanted  a  tame  squirrel.  Always,  Ned  !  And  you  '11 
make  a  cage  for  it,  won't  you,  Martin  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  promised  Martin  ;  "  and  one 
of  those  turning  things  to  go  in  it.  It  will  be  a 
nice  pet  for  you,  Hope.  I  '11  teach  him  tricks. 
Odd  about  his  being  so  tame,  is  n't  it,  Ned  ?  He 
could  n't  have  got  away  from  anybody  and  found 
his  way  here  ?  " 

"  I  saw  him  right  here,  first,"  explained  Ned, 
for  they  had  come  up  to  the  hay-shed.  "  Had  my 
hands  full  and  couldn't  pick  him  up  then.  He 
went  right  over  there ;  almost  rubbed  against  my 
boot  as  he  passed." 

"  There  he  is  now.  Oh,  is  n't  he  a  beauty  !  " 
exclaimed  Martin. 

For  there,  moving  slowly  around  the  base  of  the 
haystack,  was  a  slender,  graceful  little  animal, 
with  a  long  pointed  nose,  bright  dark  eyes,  and  an 
arched  back,  over  which  curved  an  extraordinarily 
long,  bushy  tail.  Its  hair  was  so  long  and  fine 


174  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

that  it  looked  like  a  great  bunch  of  thistledown. 
A  black  stripe  ran  down  its  back,  and  its  sides 
were  dappled  with  black  and  amber. 

"  The  dear  little  thing !  I  do  believe  I  can 
catch  it  with  my  hands.  It  does  n't  look  as  if  it 
would  bite  one  bit." 

"It  might,  Hope.  Better  keep  on  the  safe 
side.  I  '11  throw  this  sack  over  it.  That 's  the 
best  way,"  said  Ned,  picking  up  an  empty  gunny- 
sack  and  stealthily  advancing  upon  the  pretty  crea 
ture,  while  Martin  crept  behind  him,  holding  up 
the  lantern  to  guide  his  way. 

"  Oh,  boys,  stop !  Don't  go  a  step  nearer  !  I 
just  happened  to  think  —  but  I  've  always  heard 
they  looked  like  cats  and  were  black  and  white. 
Just  wait  a  minute  till  I  get  the  Encyclopaedia  and 
see  if  they  do  have  bushy  tails.  Only  think  how 
awful  it  would  be  if  it  should  be  a ." 

She  mentioned  the  name  of  a  puny  little  animal 
held  in  terror  by  stalwart  men  and  brave  women. 
At  the  mere  suggestion  Ned  and  Martin  showed 
the  white  feather  and  beat  an  inglorious  retreat, 
tumbling  over  various  implements  in  their  way. 

Hope  was  already  half-way  to  the  house.  In  a 
few  moments  she  reappeared,  carrying  a  large  vol 
ume  which  bore  upon  the  back  the  inscription  :  — 
SHO-TRO. 

She  knelt  down  on  the  earth  and  turned  the 
leaves  with  nervous  fingers,  while  Martin  looked 
eagerly  over  her  shoulder,  and  Ned  held  the  lan 
tern  so  that  its  rays  would  fall  upon  the  book. 


A  PEOJECT  AND  AN  ADVENTURE.        175 

"  Here  it  is,"  she  said.  "  Hold  the  light  a  little 
higher,  Ned :  — '  Pointed  nose  —  slender  and  elon 
gated  body  and  a  long,  bushy  tail. 9  Oh,  it  is,  it  is  ! 
4  Walks  with  back  much  arched,  and  the  tail  erect 
or  curved  forward  over  the  body?  That 's  just  the 
way  it  looked.  c  Weak,  timid,  and  slow  in  its  move 
ments.^  But  no.  It  can't  be,  either.  This  says 
it  is  black  and  white.  .  .  .  Oh,  here  it  is :  — 4  Said 
to  be  phosphorescent  by  night?  ' 

"  Let  us  get  away  from  here,"  said  Martin,  look 
ing  nervously  about  him.  "  How  do  we  know 
where  fasti  Mephitis  Mephitica  is  prowling  now?  " 

Laughing  merrily,  they  scampered  towards  the 
house.  On  the  doorstep  Ned  pretended  to  make  a 
critical  examination  of  the  fastenings  of  the  door. 

"  We  must  double-lock  everything  to-night,"  he 
declared.  "  But  oh,  Hope,  to  think  that  you  were 
going  to  adopt  for  a  pet  —  to  catch  in  your  own 
hands  —  and  Martin  was  going  to  make  a  cage  for 
it  and  teach  tricks  to  a  —  a  —  " 

"  'Sh !  "  said  Martin.  "  Call  it  by  its  classical 
name :  Mephitis  Mepkitica." 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 

A   PREMATURE   BLAST. 

Ned  and  Martin  and  Mike  and  his 
brother  Sain  had  worked  for  a  couple  of  weeks  on 
the  new  road,  there  was  not  one  of  them  that  could 
have  been  weaned  from  the  project.  Even  Sam, 
who  had  at  first  only  been  held  to  the  task  by 
Mike's  covert  threats,  began  to  look  upon  the  work 
he  had  already  done  as  an  investment  he  could  not 
afford  to  lose. 

By  the  end  of  a  month  they  had  made  grand 
headway,  having  reached  the  projecting  ledge  be 
yond  which  there  remained  but  a  few  rods  more  to 
complete  the  road  up  the  steep  hill. 

"  I  don't  see  why  we  must  wait  for  Dr.  John  to 
get  rid  of  this  big  rock.  The  blasting  powder  's 
here,  and  the  drills  are  here,  and  all  we  need  is  to 
make  some  holes  and  put  in  the  powder,"  said 
Mike,  as  they  prepared  to  go  around  the  ledge  -and 
begin  work  on  the  other  side. 

"  But  you  know  we  don't  understand  such  things, 
Mike,  and  there  are  always  accidents  occurring  in 
just  such  ways.  I  think  it 's  very  good  of  Dr. 
John  to  care,  and  we  certainly  owe  it  to  him  to 
wait,  when  he  has  furnished  the  powder  and  the 
drills." 


A  PREMATURE  BLAST.  177 

"  Why  can't  we  make  the  holes  with  the  drills  ?  " 
urged  Mike.  "  That  '11  be  so  much  ready  when 
the  doctor  conies." 

Ned  readily  assented  to  this  scheme,  but  when 
the  boys  had  spent  half  a  day  at  this  most  diffi 
cult  labor,  without  sinking  a  foot  into  the  hard 
rock,  they  were  well-nigh  discouraged.  Mike  made 
a  circuit  of  the  ledge  and  finally  climbed  on  top  of 
it,  and  in  a  little  time  his  good-natured  face  peered 
over  at  the  boys. 

"  Say,  Ned !  Just  you  go  down  and  ask  Dr.  John 
when  he  '11  come  up.  His  buggy  's  comin'  along 
the  road  from  the  station  now.  Tell  him  we  're 
clean  used  up,  and  you  're  afraid  we  '11  throw  up 
the  whole  thins:. " 

O 

Mike  waited  until  he  was  well  out  of  sight,  then 
beckoned  to  the  younger  boys. 

"  Come  along  with  you,  will  you,  an'  see  what 
I  Ve  found." 

Martin  and  Sam  at  once  guessed  that  some  im 
portant  scheme  was  on  hand,  and  clambered  over 
the  ledge  in  great  haste.  They  found  Mike  stand 
ing  over  a  fissure,  which  ran  completely  across  the 
ledge,  near  its  junction  with  the  hill.  In  the  cen 
tre  of  this  a  wide  crevice  could  be  seen,  extending 
down  into  the  heart  of  the  rock. 

"  Now  what 's  the  use  of  pegging  away  with  thim 
things,"  demanded  Mike,  pointing  contemptuously 
in  the  direction  of  the  abandoned  drills,  "  whin  this 
big  crack  's  here,  riddy  to  our  hand  ?  All  we  've 
got  to  do  is,  ram  the  stuff  down  in  here  an'  touch 


178  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

it   off,  an'  this  whole  rock '11  go  rollin'  down  the 
hill  like  a  ball  of  cotton." 

"  But  are  you  sure  you  know  how,  Mike  ?  Have 
you  ever  done  it  before  ?  "  asked  Martin,  his  boy's 
love  of  adventure  struggling  against  a  sense  of 
obligation  to  Ned  and  the  doctor. 

"  Coorse  I  have.  Did  n't  I  stand  round  day 
after  day  when  they  were  workin'  on  the  Mission 
road,  an'  blastin'  rock  by  the  hunderd  ton  ?  An' 
help  'em,  too ;  I  tell  you  I  'm  up  to  the  whole  thing. 
So  come  on  !  " 

Mike  was  quite  willing  to  stretch  the  truth  a 
little,  lest  he  lose  prestige  with  his  followers,  and 
he  related  several  exciting  anecdotes  of  experience 
as  he  led  the  way  up  the  hill  to  the  place  where 
the  explosives  had  been  stored.  By  the  time  they 
reached  there,  Martin's  misgivings  were  silenced, 
and  he  was  disposed  to  regard  Mike  as  quite  a 
smart  fellow  after  all :  much  more  enterprising 
than  his  brother  Ned. 

But  Mike,  who  had  a  little  superficial  knowledge 
of  the  use  of  gunpowder  in  such  cases,  had  no  con 
ception  of  the  dangerous  nature  of  the  explosive 
with  which  he  had  to  deal.  He  had  some  con 
science,  however,  for  when  he  had  carried  it  to  the 
top  of  the  ledge,  he  ordered  the  younger  boys  to 
stand  at  a  respectful  distance,  while  he  faced  the 
risks  of  his  mad  prank  alone. 

A  feeling  of  anxiety  gained  upon  Ned,  as  he 
crossed  the  bridge  and  walked  up  through  the  doc 
tor's  grounds. 


A  PREMATURE  BLAST.  179 

Dr.  John  was  in  the  stable,  putting  up  his  horse. 
Ned  could  hear  him  speaking  kindly  to  the  animal 
as  he  secured  her  in  her  stall. 

"  Dr.  John !  "  called  Ned. 

The  doctor  came  instantly  out  of  the  stable. 

"  Oh,  it 's  you,  Ned.  Well,  what  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

"  When  can  you  come  over  to  attend  to  that 
blasting  ?  I  wish  you  'd  come  now.  I  'm  afraid  — 
I  can't  help  thinking  the  boys  mean  to  do  some 
thing  while  I  'm  away." 

"  Why,  what  can  they  do  ?  They  can't  run  away 
with  the  road,  can  they?  "  asked  the  doctor  good- 
naturedly. 

"  No,  sir.     But  the  blasting  powder  —  " 

"  The  blasting  powder !  Did  that  stupid  fellow 
who  brought  it  here  carry  it  across  The  Brook  ?  " 

The  doctor  was  at  once  aroused. 

"  Yes,  sir.  And  we  carried  it  up  the  hill,  so  as 
to  have  it  handy." 

"  Oh,  that  is  bad,  bad  !  "  said  the  doctor,  has 
tening  at  once  in  the  direction  of  The  Brook. 
"And  with  such  a  fellow  about  as  that  Mike 
McCrary !  " 

Dr.  John  and  Ned  ran  across  the  hanging  bridge 
and  up  towards  the  hill,  their  apprehension  grow 
ing  with  every  moment. 

Before  they  reached  the  old  trail  there  came  a 
deafening  roar.  An  immense  mass  of  rock  shot 
up  into  the  air,  and  then  seemed  to  separate  and 
rain  down  in  fragments. 


180  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Out  of  the  smoke-like  cloud  of  dust  that  for  a 
moment  enveloped  the  hillside  a  figure  appeared, 
running  swiftly  down  the  road.  It  was  Martin, 
covered  with  dirt,  and  hatless,  the  blood  flowing 
down  one  side  of  his  face,  where  his  cheek  had  been 
laid  bare  by  a  flying  fragment  of  rock. 

"  I  'm  all  right,"  he  cried  breathlessly.  "  But 
hurry  to  the  other  boys !  I  'm  afraid  they  're  killed. 
They  're  making  an  awful  noise." 

By  this  time  they  could  hear  a  succession  of 
blood-curdling  yells,  with  now  and  then  a  low  groan 
like  a  basso  profundo  accompaniment. 

Ned  ran  in  the  direction  of  the  shrieks ;  the 
doctor,  with  true  professional  instinct,  hastened  in 
the  direction  of  the  more  quiet  sufferer.  From  be 
neath  the  projecting  shelter  of  a  great  boulder  Ned 
hauled  Sam  McCrary,  kicking  and  screaming,  and 
blanched  with  fright,  but  wholly  unhurt. 

Dr.  John's  case  was  more  serious.  Mike  Mc 
Crary  was  lying  on  his  back,  where  he  had  evi 
dently  been  flung  by  the  force  of  the  explosion,  the 
blood  trickling  over  his  forehead  from  an  ugly 
scalp  wound,  his  hands  badly  torn,  and  one  leg  pin 
ioned  beneath  a  heavy  stone.  Dr.  John  and  Ned 
lifted  this  off  by  their  united  strength,  and  then 
the  doctor  made  a  hasty  examination. 

"  A  pretty  badly  mangled  leg,  and  an  ugly  cut  in 
the  head,"  he  announced.  "  He  '11  be  a  very  sick 
fellow  before  he  gets  up  from  this.  How  to  get 
him  home  is  one  problem,  and  how  to  get  him  well 
in  a  home  like  that  is  another  and  a  harder  one." 


A  PREMATURE  BLAST.  181 

The  doctor  was  thinking  aloud,  but  the  right 
solution  of  the  difficulty  at  once  flashed  across  Ned. 
Mike  ought  not  be  jarred  or  carried  any  further 
than  possible.  Yet  how  could  they  stand  it,  to 
take  this  great,  coarse,  dirty  fellow  into  their  neat 
little  home  ? 

Of  course  the  Good  Samaritan  would  not  have 
hesitated;  but  then  the  Good  Samaritan  helped 
people  by  the  wayside  ;  he  did  n't  take  them  to  his 
home. 

"  Dr.  John,"  said  Ned  quietly,  "  we  will  carry 
him  down  to  our  house." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  doctor  just  as  quietly, 
never  hinting  that  he  had  divined  the  struggle 
through  which  the  boy  had  been  passing. 

They  brought  up  the  drag  the  boys  used  on  the 
place,  and  with  great  difficulty  got  Mike  down  to  the 
cottage,  where  he  was  laid  on  the  boys'  own  bed. 

For  a  couple  of  weeks  Mike  had  a  high  fever 
and  required  constant  attention,  but  when  he  grew 
better  he  seemed  to  fret  so  much  over  the  failure 
of  their  project  and  his  own  helplessness,  that  the 
boys  returned  to  their  work  upon  the  road,  and 
were  joined  by  Sam,  who  was  very  much  subdued, 
and  showed  himself  amenable  to  orders  from  that 
time  forth. 

The  accident  had  occurred  about  the  middle  of 
October,  and  by  the  middle  of  November  they  had 
reached  the  brow  of  the  hill  and  commenced  to 
blaze  their  way  through  the  dense  growth  of  tim 
ber  above.  When  they  had  got  partly  through  the 


182  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

McCrary  place,  some  of  the  neighbors,  knowing  of 
Mike's  misfortune,  volunteered  to  complete  the 
road,  offering  to  take  their  pay  in  the  wood  that 
was  cut  down  in  clearing  it. 

It  was  well  into  November  when  Mike  was  suf 
ficiently  recovered  to  attempt  his  journey  home. 

"  Do  you  feel  quite  able  to  go,  Mike  ? "  asked 
Ned,  kindly.  He  could  not  help  being  secretly  re 
lieved  at  the  departure  of  this  uncongenial  guest, 
but  he  was  all  the  more  determined  not  to  be  re 
miss  in  any  of  the  dues  of  hospitality. 

"  Yes,  I  'm  able,  so  far  as  that  goes,  but  I  '11  be 
blessed  if  I  want  to,"  confessed  Mike  frankly. 
"  Boys,  I  know  I  've  been  a  trouble  to  you,  an'  in 
the  way,  an'  it  has  n't  been  just  like  home  to  you 
with  a  big,  rough  fellow  like  me  lyin'  around." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  "  Not  at  all !  "  the  boys  hastened  to 
say,  but  Mike  persisted  :  - 

"  Yes,  it 's  been  a  bother,  an'  you  know  it,  an' 
I  know  it.  An'  your  sister  —  little  lady  as  she 
is  —  knows  it.  Do  you  s'pose  I  did  n't  know  it  went 
agin  the  grain  to  have  me  eatin'  an'  drinkin'  out  of 
her  nice  dishes  an'  settin'  round  her  tidy  rooms,  not 
knowin'  so  much  as  how  to  do  it  genteelly,  neither  ? 
But  I  tell  you,  boys,  it  seems  's  if  I  niver  lived 
before.  You  know  what  I  've  got  to  go  back  to." 

The  boys  hardly  knew  what  to  say  to  this  out 
burst  of  confidence.  Mike  relieved  them  of  all 
embarrassment  by  cutting  short  the  conversation 
himself. 

"  Well,  I  must  be  goin',"  he  said.     "  Thank  you 


A  PREMATURE  BLAST.  183 

kindly  for  what  you  've  done  for  me.  After  all,  a 
man's  bed  is  what  he  makes  it.  P'r'aps  I  might 
be  makin'  mine  better  when  I  git  about  agin." 

It  was  several  weeks  more  before  Mike  Mc- 
Crary's  budding  ambition  found  a  chance  to  expand. 
Early  one  morning,  Dr.  John,  going  down  to  his 
stable  to  harness  his  horse,  met  Mike,  still  a  little 
pale,  and  limping  slightly. 

"  Dr.  John,"  he  said  modestly,  "  will  you  loan 
me  a  hoe  for  a  week  or  so  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Mike.  There  are  plenty  here  in  the 
tool-house.  Help  yourself." 

Mike  selected  one  that  was  broad  and  heavy. 

"  I  'm  goin'  to  try  to  git  work  down  to  Abbott's 
nursery,"  he  exclaimed.  "  A  man  was  tellin'  me 
they  're  short  of  hands  in  hoein'." 

"  Then  jump  into  the  buggy  and  I  '11  give  you  a 
lift.  I  have  to  go  by  there  this  morning,"  said  Dr. 
John. 

On  the  road  Mike  was  speechless  for  a  time ; 
then  he  broke  the  silence  by  saying :  — 

"It  was  too  much  for  me,  doctor,  when  I  got 
back  there." 

He  pointed  over  the  hills  in  the  direction  of  his 
home. 

"  At  the  Austins',  it  was  different  like,  you 
know." 

"  Enterprising  young  people !  "  commented  the 
doctor.  "  Do  you  know  what  they  are  busy  about 
now  ?  " 

"  No,  sir/' 


184  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Putting  a  hydraulic  ram  in  The  Brook  to  in 
crease  their  supply  of  water,  so  that  they  can  irri 
gate  the  lower  part  of  their  place.  They  found 
that  a  few  old  fig-trees  were  paying  better  than 
anything  else  on  their  ranch,  so  they  encouraged 
the  growth  of  a  lot  of  suckers,  and  when  the  wet 
season  had  fairly  set  in,  they  planted  them  out. 
There  are  a  hundred  or  more  of  them,  and  they 
will  commence  bearing  a  year  and  a  half  from  now. 
The  only  drawback  was  the  lack  of  a  copious  sup 
ply  of  water.  This  is  their  way  of  meeting  it." 

But  Mike,  with  the  pertinacity  of  people  of  his 
kind,  was  not  to  be  diverted  from  his  subject. 

"  I  could  n't  stand  it  after  I  got  home.  You 
knew  about  my  father,  doctor  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard —  something,"  replied  the  Doctor, 
conservatively. 

"  Then  you  know.  He  hung  himself.  I  think 
if  he  'd  just  plucked  up  and  fought  it  out,  it  'd  a 
been  better  for  us.  My  mother  —  is  a  different 
sort." 

He  broke  off  abruptly  for  a  moment,  than  re 
sumed. 

"  We  've  got  plenty  of  land  there,  —  good  land, 
too  ;  but  not  a  red  cent  to  cultivate  it.  We  've 
lived  from  hand  to  mouth  all  along.  Let  the  cat 
tle  take  care  of  themselves,  and  sold  a  calf  or  cow 
or  a  horse  to  pay  the  storekeepers,  —  when  they 
were  paid !  It 's  goin'  to  be  different  now.  I  'in 
goin'  to  make  a  raise." 

Dr.   John  gave   a  keen,  sidelong  glance  at  his 


A  PEEMATUEE  BLAST.  185 

companion.  Was  this  Mike  McCrary,  the  idle, 
worthless  fellow,  whom  he  had  held  in  contempt 
for  years?  Would  this  newly  conceived  ambition 
hold  out  ? 

As  Mike  got  out  of  the  buggy  he  turned  to  Dr. 
John  with  some  of  his  old  roguery. 

"  I  come  pretty  nigh  '  boltin'  into  the  next 
county,'  but  it  was  n't  to  dodge  the  work  on  the 
road,  doctor.  An'  you  '11  surely  own  that  my 
blast  cleared  the  road,  sir,  if  it  did  clear  a  good 
deal  else  along  with  it." 


CHAPTEE  XXVI. 

THE    BUILDING    OF    THE    BRIDGE. 

EARLY  one  morning  in  the  following  spring,  Dr. 
John  appeared  at  Home  Ranch  with  a  look  of 
quiet  satisfaction  on  his  face. 

"  Well,  young  folks,  I  have  some  agreeable  news 
for  you,"  he  announced.  "  The  county  supervi 
sors  have  decided  to  build  a  bridge  across  The 
Brook,  to  connect  with  your  new  road." 

"  You  don't  say  so !  "  cried  Martin. 

"  What  ever  started  them  ?  How  did  they  know 
about  the  road  ?  "  asked  Ned. 

"  Oh,  they  heard  of  it  some  way  or  other,"  re 
plied  the  doctor,  calmly.  "  It  makes  a  short  cut 
to  the  next  town  up  in  the  mountains." 

"  It  will  be  an  immense  advantage  to  us.  It 
will  give  us  a  chance  to  get  help  when  we  need  it, 
for  one  thing.  We  can  do  a  good  many  things 
that  we  can't  do  now  without  help.  Catch  a  Chi 
naman  trusting  himself  to  our  suspension  bridge  !  " 
remarked  Ned. 

"  Yes,  it  will  be  an  advantage  to  you,  on  the 
whole,  I  think,"  replied  the  doctor. 

No  one  could  have  suspected  from  Dr.  John's 
careless  manner  that  he  had  been  first  and  fore- 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  BEIDGE.         187 

most  in  promoting  the  entire  scheme.  He  had 
first  laid  the  matter  before  the  supervisor  from 
their  township,  who  had  introduced  the  proposition 
in  open  board.  When  it  appeared  that  the  rest 
of  the  body  were  inclined  to  take  but  a  lukewarm 
interest  in  the  matter,  Dr.  John  had  not  been 
discouraged.  He  had  addressed  a  communication 
to  the  supervisors,  setting  forth,  in  clear  language, 
the  saving  of  time  and  travel  that  would  accrue 
from  connecting  with  the  new  road,  and  had  asked, 
in  a  forcible  way,  whether  the  supervisors  of  Ala- 
meda  County  had  not  sufficient  energy  and  enter 
prise  to  match  the  efforts  of  a  parcel  of  boys. 
This  letter  he  had  backed  up  by  a  petition,  signed 
by  all  the  people  of  substance  throughout  the  val 
ley,  asking  that  the  bridge  should  be  built,  and  the 
Board  had  yielded  a  tardy  surrender  to  the  logic 
of  circumstances. 

"  Of  course  the  building  of  the  bridge  implies 
the  laying  out  of  a  public  road  through  both  of  our 
places,"  explained  the  doctor.  "  The  ground  will 
be  condemned  and  paid  for  at  a  reasonable  rate. 
"We  must  take  pains  to  have  it  pass  along  the  side 
of  Home  Ranch,  so  as  not  to  cut  the  place  in  two. 
It  is  going  to  make  a  difference  to  you  in  more 
than  one  way.  Soon  the  great  outside  world  —  the 
world  that  is  afraid  of  quicksands  and  swinging 
bridges  —  will  be  crowding  in  upon  you.  Don't 
let  it  come  too  near." 

The  boys  were  busy  with  their  spring  plowing, 
and  knowing  that  Dr.  John  never  permitted  them 


188  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

to  make  any  difference  in  their  work  when  he  was 
there,  having  finished  their  breakfast,  they  went  out. 

Hope,  who  had  bread  to  bake,  stepped  into  the 
pantry,  pulled  out  her  cakeboard  and  commenced 
to  knead  the  dough  she  had  mixed  while  waiting 
for  the  boys  to  come  in  to  breakfast.  She  was 
very  quiet,  thinking  over  Dr.  John's  last  words, 
which  seemed  to  her  to  hold  a  deep  significance. 

The  doctor  was  quiet,  too,  and  he  was  thinking 
about  Hope.  He  had  become  attached  to  the 
young  girl,  during  the  two  years  and  more  that 
they  had  lived  in  such  close  neighborship,  but  he 
had  to  confess  to  himself  that  she  puzzled  him. 
He  was  accustomed  to  the  ordinary  type  of  girl, 
bright,  talkative,  plucky,  ambitious,  eager  to  take  a 
position  in  the  world.  This  shy  little  body,  who 
went  so  quietly  about  her  self-appointed  tasks,  who 
never  expressed  any  desire  to  mingle  with  other 
girls  of  her  age,  who  knew  no  amusements  beyond 
the  daily  happenings  on  the  ranch,  was  a  new  type 
to  him. 

"  Hope,"  he  said,  gently ;  "  don't  you  care  any 
thing  for  dress  ?  " 

The  girl  looked  up,  surprised  by  his  tone  and 
inquiry. 

"  For  pretty  clothes,  such  as  girls  usually  fancy," 
he  explained  smilingly.  "  For  silks,  and  laces,  and 
beautiful  jewels,  such  as  women  of  fashion  wear." 

It  was  not  a  new  thought  to  Hope.  He  could 
see  that  by  the  expression  of  her  face.  So  the 
girl  had  her  temptations  and  weaknesses  to  camp 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  BEIDOE.          189 

down,  silently  and  uncomplainingly  as  she  fought 
her  battles. 

"  I  might,"  she  answered  frankly,  "  if  other 
things  made  it  right.  Sometimes  I  think  that  this 
life  is  good  for  me  in  that  very  way.  If  I  had 
been  able  to  have  all  those  things,  I  am  afraid  I 
should  have  thought  of  little  else.  I  should  have 
been  a  selfish  little  peacock,  and  the  boys  —  the 
boys  would  have  despised  me." 

She  drew  a  long  breath  and  gave  the  lump  of 
dough  she  was  kneading  some  very  unnecessary 
thumps,  as  if  it  represented  the  frivolous  spirit 
she  had  found  it  so  hard  to  conquer.  Perhaps  the 
thought  came  into  her  mind  that  if  she  could  have 

o 

had  all  the  pretty  things  her  girlish  fancy  craved, 
she  could  have  borne  very  well  to  be  despised  by 
the  boys. 

"It  does  n't  trouble  me  one  bit  to  go  without 
them,"  she  insisted  bravely  ;  "  but  there  is  one  thing 
I  should  like  :  to  be  dressed  perfectly,  all  through, 
just  for  once.  I  think  I  should  like  brown  best," 
she  continued,  speculatively,  tipping  her  little  head 
to  one  side  and  absently  holding  up  a  lump  of 
dough  that  she  had  separated  from  the  rest,  to 
make  into  a  loaf.  "  A  pretty,  dark  brown  wool 
dress,  the  very  finest  and  costliest  material,  but 
wool ;  and  a  brown  jacket,  and  a  brown  hat,  and 
brown  gloves,  and  —  yes,  some  bronze  boots. 
Everything  the  very  best  of  its  kind.  Not  for  peo 
ple  to  see.  For  my  own  comfort,  even  if  I  only 
put  them  on  once  in  a  great  while  and  took  a  little 


190  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

walk,  all  by  myself,  about  the  ranch.  Oh,  I  know 
it 's  perfectly  absurd,"  she  concluded,  with  a  little 
bird-like  laugh. 

But  Dr.  John  did  not  appear  to  be  listening  at 
all,  and  Hope  felt  quite  rebuked  for  her  levity. 
He  was  making  an  entry  in  a  little  note-book  he 
carried  in  his  pocket.  When  he  had  replaced  it 
he  took  his  leave,  but  Hope's  cheeks  burned  for  an 
hour  afterwards,  over  the  recollection  of  her  folly. 

They  who  plant  fruit-trees  in  California  do  not 
plant  for  coming  generations.  Mother  Nature  is 
bountiful  in  the  Golden  State,  and  hastens  to  re 
ward  those  who  serve  her. 

The  third  year,  the  occupants  of  Home  Eanch 
commenced  to  reap  a  substantial  return  for  their 
labors.  They  now  had  six  acres  of  orchard  fruit 
in  bearing,  and  each  succeeding  year  would  in 
crease  the  product.  In  addition  to  this,  they  had 
seven  acres  of  young  orchard,  including  the  figs, 
and  had  added  three  acres  to  their  vineyard,  using 
cuttings  from  their  own  vines. 

They  had  reached  the  point  of  an  assured 
prosperity,  and  knew  that  with  economy  they  could 
meet  any  ordinary  emergency,  while  their  income 
was  sure  to  increase  steadily,  year  after  year. 
They  still  kept  up  their  studies,  and  hoped  another 
year  to  be  able  to  lighten  their  labors,  now  growing 
a  little  too  heavy  for  them,  by  hiring  extra  help  in 
the  fruit  season. 

The  few  strangers  with  whom  they  came  in  con 
tact  from  time  to  time  remarked  their  unusual 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  BRIDGE.          191 

intelligence  and  breadth  of  substantial  knowledge, 
but  there  was  a  certain  quaint  precision  of  speech, 
an  excess  of  earnestness  of  manner,  which  is  very 
sure  to  mark  those  who  live  apart,  and  whose  intel 
lectual  training  has  been  almost  wholly  acquired 
from  books. 

It  was  not  until  late  in  August  that  the  bridge 
was  built,  but  when  it  was  at  length  completed 
they  found  the  doctor's  prediction  verified. 

The  world  —  the  little  world  of  the  valley  — 
rushed  in  upon  them.  The  boys,  accustomed  to 
meet  the  men  of  the  community,  as  well  as  boys 
of  their  own  age,  on  their  frequent  trips  to  the 
village,  were  little  discomposed  by  the  change, 
although  it  was  observable  that  Martin  grew  par 
ticular  about  his  toilet,  and  never  went  out  or  came 
in  without  stealing  a  look  in  the  glass  to  make 
sure  that  his  hair  was  neatly  brushed  and  his  face 
clean.  Ned  took  a  hearty  pleasure  in  the  visits  of 
other  young  farmers  and  farmers'  sons,  and  took 
them  about  the  place  to  look  at  the  trees  and  vines, 
or  discussed  various  modes  of  culture  with  them, 
with  great  satisfaction. 

With  Hope,  now  a  tall,  fair  girl  of  fourteen,  it 
was  wholly  different.  She  could  not  reconcile  her 
self  all  at  once  to  this  invasion  of  their  privacy. 
The  whole  world  seemed  to  have  been  turned  topsy 
turvy.  She  trembled  at  the  sound  of  carriage- 
wheels  more  than  she  had  ever  faltered  at  the 
shock  of  a  California  earthquake,  and  was  con 
scious  at  times  of  a  barbarous  wish  that  the  bridge 


192  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

might  be  consumed  by  fire  or  swept  away  by  a 
freshet.  She  had  always  been  painfully  shy,  and 
to  suddenly  become  the  mark  of  so  much  social 
attention  was  almost  more  than  she  could  bear. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  they  would  stop  it,  or  would  n't 
come  at  all,"  she  once  said  in  an  undertone  to  Ned, 
after  a  carriage-load  of  callers  had  rolled  away. 

"  Stop  what  ?  "  asked  Ned  in  surprise. 

"  Don't  you  see  how  the  ladies  —  the  middle- 
aged  ones  —  all  look  on  me  with  compassion,  as  if 
I  were  just  rescued  from  some  long  and  terrible 
exile  ?  They  talk  to  me  as  if  they  were  mission 
aries,  and  I  a  forlorn  little  pagan.  And  the 
young  ladies  —  I  don't  dare  call  them  girls  —  act 
as  if  I  were  some  wild  animal  escaped  from  a 
menagerie." 

Hope  did  not  realize  that  her  own  unusual  dig 
nity,  which  masked  her  natural  timidity,  and  her 
seriousness,  overawed  the  young  people  of  her  own 
age.  She  saw  them  look  curiously  at  her,  and  be 
came  conscious  that  her  clothes  were  old-fashioned 
and  plain.  She  observed  that  they  hesitated  while 
talking  with  her,  and  thought  that  she  had  tired 
them  with  her  dullness.  She  resented  the  insinua 
tion  that  her  years  of  separation  and  seclusion  had 
been  years  of  martyrdom :  those  happy,  useful 
years.  The  only  sorrow  she  had  was  one  she 
could  not  bare  to  the  casual  comments  of  stran 
gers  :  the  thought  of  her  father,  sick,  helpless  and 
lonely,  chained  down  by  disease. 

Occasionally  city  people  came  across  the  bridge 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  BRIDGE.          193 

and  up  the  road,  bound  on  merry  jaunts  across  the 
range. 

One  day  a  party  of  young  men,  rigged  out  for  a 
hunt,  and  driving  a  team  of  fast  horses,  came  up 
the  road.  They  were  a  wild  and  noisy  crowd. 
All  of  them  had  cigars  in  their  mouths,  and  they 
had  evidently  been  drinking.  Hope  was  at  work 
among  her  roses  as  she  saw  them  coming,  and  she 
wondered  when  they  drew  up  at  the  gate  of  Home 
Ranch. 

"  Here 's  for  a  raid  on  that  vineyard  !  "  she  heard 
one  of  them  shout,  as  he  led  the  way  for  the  rest  to 
follow. 

44 1  see  something  better :  a  lot  of  roses  and  a 
pretty  girl.  Here  's  for  a  kiss  !  "  sang  out  another's 
merry  voice,  and  she  saw  him  leave  his  companions 
and  come  down  towards  her,  while  the  others  halted 
and  looked  after  him,  as  if  uncertain  whether  to 
keep  on  or  to  follow  him. 

Hope  turned  away  from  him,  but  she  stood  her 
ground  and  busied  herself  with  her  roses,  confront 
ing  him  with  a  pale  face  and  flashing  eyes,  as  she 
heard  his  step  behind  her. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  which  of  the  two  was  most 
shocked  and  abashed. 

"  Oh,  Tom  Bateman  !  "  cried  Hope. 

"Hope  Austin  !  "  was  all  that  Tom  could  stam 
mer  at  first,  but  he  threw  away  the  cigar  he  was 
smoking. 

"  I  'm  sorry,  Hope.  Indeed,  I  meant  nothing  by 
it.  We  're  out  on  a  regular  lark,  —  but  this  is  the 


194  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

worst  thing  I  Ve  done.  Indeed  it  is !  I  'm  heartily 
ashamed  of  myself." 

"  Go  !  "  said  Hope  severely,  pointing  to  the  gate 
and  to  the  young  fellows  who  were  waiting.  "  Go ! 
And  I  hope,  Tom  Bateman,  I  '11  never  see  you  again 
as  long  as  I  live,  if  it  has  to  be  like  this." 

Without  a  word,  he  did  as  she  bade  him,  and 
would  have  taken  his  companions  with  him,  but 
at  that  moment  the  boys  appeared,  coming  in  to 
luncheon.  They  hailed  him  cordially. 

"  Why,  how  are  you,  Tom  ?  Come  to  make  us 
a  little  visit,  I  hope,"  said  Ned. 

"  Not  to-day,"  replied  Tom,  greatly  embarrassed. 
"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  did  n't  know  you  lived 
here.  It  was  quite  by  accident  we  stopped  at  all." 

"  Oh,  but  you  ought  to  come  up  and  see  Beauty," 
urged  Martin.  "  She's  the  prettiest  cow  in  all  the 
valley.  Every  one  admires  her.  Her  calf  is  almost 
as  large  as  she  is  now.'* 

"I  —  I  can't  stop !  "  insisted  Tom,  taking  a  step 
towards  the  road,  where  the  rest  of  the  party  were 
already  climbing  into  their  cart.  "  You  Ve  got  a 
neat  little  place  up  here.  I  suppose  you  fellows 
have  no  end  of  fun,  driving  about  the  country,  and 
hunting,  and  fishing,  and  such  things." 

"  We  have  plenty  of  fun,"  returned  Ned,  pleas 
antly,  "  but  not  precisely  that  kind.  We  don't 
have  much  time  to  seek  our  own  pleasure,  so  we 
find  pleasure  in  our  work  and  duty." 

"Really?  "  said  Tom,  with  honest  sympathy. 

"  Oh,  you  mus'n't  pity  us.     We  would  n't  change 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  BBIDGE.  195 

places  with  the  jolliest  of  you  city  fellows.     Come 
up  and  try  it  yourself." 

"  Another  time  !  "  said  Tom. 

"  All  right.  Another  time,"  rejoined  the  boys  ; 
but  they  both  wondered  whether  Tom  would  keep 
his  word. 

The  rest  of  the  trip  was  spoiled  for  Tom.  Where- 
ever  they  went,  and  in  all  their  frolics,  he  saw  con 
tinually  before  him  an  earnest  little  face  looking 
with  contempt  upon  him,  and  heard  a  sweet,  girlish 
voice,  saying :  — 

"  I  hope  I  '11  never  see  you  again,  if  it 's  to  be 
like  this." 

As  for  Hope,  she  went  sadly  up  to  the  house, 
saying  over  and  over  again  to  herself :  — 

"Oh,  I  wish  the  bridge  had  never  been  built. 
I  wish  it  had  never  been  built." 

Yet  the  bridge  was  to  give  them  many  a  lift  on 
the  road  to  a  greater  prosperity,  and  to  bring  great 
happiness  to  them. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  PRISONER  OF  WAR. 

THE  building  of  the  bridge  brought  its  train  of 
disaster,  as  well  as  its  benefits. 

One  Saturday  afternoon,  late  in  November,  soon 
after  its  completion,  Hope  was  seated  in  her  little 
rocking-chair  just  outside  the  door,  darning  stock 
ings  and  humming  a  little  song  to  herself,  while  the 
boys  were  pruning  in  the  vineyard. 

Down  the  road  she  saw  some  one  coming.  A  tall, 
burly  man  had  crossed  the  bridge,  and  was  coming 
up  the  road.  Now  and  then  he  stopped  and  sur 
veyed  the  place. 

Had  any  one  been  near  enough  to  see,  they  might 
have  wondered  at  the  cunning  look  of  gratification 
that  overspread  his  face.  Not  a  thing  escaped  his 
eye  :  the  thriving  hedge  planted  along  the  road ;  the 
vigorous  orchard ;  the  ground  beneath  the  trees, 
destitute  of  a  weed  or  spear  of  grass  ;  the  vineyard, 
carefully  staked  out  and  with  the  vines  already 
pruned  ;  the  long  rows  of  roses,  now  luxurious  with 
bloom. 

As  he  turned  into  the  place  and  lounged  around 
so  as  to  obtain  a  closer  view  of  the  house,  which 
now  looked  "  as  if  it  belonged  to  somebody,"  as  the 


A  PRISONER  OF   WAR.  197 

doctor  had  said,  a  broad  grin  of  delight,  not  un 
mixed  with  surprise,  overspread  the  fellow's  face. 
He  noted  the  newly  shingled  roof,  the  screens  at 
doors  and  windows,  the  shelf  outside  of  the  back  door, 
with  its  row  of  glittering  milk-pans  shining  in  the 
sun,  the  flower-beds  around  the  house,  the  general 
air  of  thrift  and  comfort.  Not  a  detail  escaped 
his  eye. 

"  Well,  I  vum  !  "  he  said. 

He  strolled  around  to  the  front  of  the  house,  and 
came  suddenly  upon  Hope,  in  her  neat  gingham 
dress,  with  the  sunshine  sifting  down  through  the 
pepper-trees  upon  her  head,  touching  her  brown 
hair  with  golden  glints.  She  wore  a  plain  linen 
collar  and  had  a  bright  bow  of  ribbon  at  her  throat, 
and  was  altogether  as  fair  and  sweet  a  vision  of 
dawning  womanhood  as  one  often  sees. 

A  coarse  oath  fell  from  the  man's  lips  at  the 
sight. 

" it !  Thought  I  'd  got  only  a  passel  o'  boys 

to  deal  with.  Bother  the  wimmen  folks  !  " 

Hope  gave  a  little  start  at  the  unexpected  ap 
pearance  of  the  stranger  and  his  muttered  excla 
mation,  and  sprang  up  from  her  seat. 

"  Did  you  —  do  you  want  to  see  anybody  ?  I 
thought  you  had  gone  up  the  orchard  to  the 
boys." 

She  had  little  knowledge  of  the  world,  but  the 
bleared  eyes,  the  brutish  mouth,  the  red  swollen 
face  of  this  man  possessed  her  with  an  instinctive 
dread. 


198  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Her  agitation  reassured  the  fellow. 

"  Keckon  I  do,"  he  said  roughly.  "  Reckon  I  've 
suthin'  to  say  to  them  boys  —  yo'  brothers,  be 
they?" 

Hope  drew  from  her  pocket  a  small  hunting- 
whistle,  one  that  the  boys  had  once  given  her  to 
call  them  to  their  meals  when  they  were  out  of 
hearing.  She  placed  this  to  her  mouth  and  blew  a 
shrill  summons  upon  it.  Up  the  canon  the  echoes 
answered  her,  and  a  mocking  call  came  from  the 
rough  crags  of  the  hillside  back  of  the  place,  blend 
ing  with  the  boys'  voices,  as  they  united  in  a  hearty 
response. 

Her  heart  gave  a  bound  when  she  heard  the 
sound  of  the  boys'  hurrying  feet,  and  a  moment 
later  they  came  into  sight. 

Ned  wore  a  loose  flannel  blouse,  unbuttoned  at 
the  neck  and  showing  his  white,  girlish  throat.  An 
old  straw  hat  was  on  his  head,  and  in  his  hand 
he  carried  a  pair  of  heavy  pruning  shears.  Mar 
tin  followed,  wearing  a  loose  jumper  and  overalls. 
The  faces  of  both  boys  were  flushed  by  running. 
They  were  sure  something  unusual  had  occurred, 
or  Hope  would  never  have  blown  the  whistle. 

The  burly  visitor  looked  at  them  in  evident  satis 
faction.  They  were  fine  specimens  of  American 
boyhood,  brave,  manly  young  fellows,  every  inch  of 
them ;  but  they  were  by  no  means  men,  according 
to  his  standard. 

"Howoldbeyo'?" 

He  put  the  question  to  Ned,  who  had  been  waiting 


A  PEISONER  OF  WAR.  199 

in  silence  for  him  to  make  known  his  errand. 
There  was  something  so  sinister  about  the  man's 
face  and  manner  that  Ned  hesitated  an  instant 
before  replying.  Then  he  answered  quietly  :  — 

"  Eighteen  last  July." 

"  Reckoned  yo'  was  n't  beyant  it.  An'  how 
long  be  yo'  heah  ?  " 

"  Three  years  in  September." 

"Filed  on 't?  Gov'ment  land,  hey?"  perse 
vered  the  visitor. 

"  I  did.  What  business  is  it  of  yours  ? "  de 
manded  Ned,  nettled  by  the  impertinent  questions 
and  jeering  tone. 

The  stranger  viewed  him  with  the  cruel  eye  a 
cold-blooded  angler  bends  on  the  little  fish  that 
has  swallowed  his  bait,  and  which  he  plays  awhile 
before  jerking  out  of  the  water. 

"  Le'  's  go  in  the  house,"  he  said.  "  Reckon  I  'd 
like  to  look  around  a  bit." 

This  was  decidedly  too  much  :  to  have  their  little 
home  invaded  by  this  impertinent  trespasser,  who 
had  already  frightened  Hope  and  called  them  from 
their  work,  robbing  them  of  precious  time  !  Ned 
placed  himself  before  the  door  and  looked  up  boldly 
into  the  stranger's  face. 

"Out  of  the  way,  blast  yo',  yo'  young  scoundrel !  " 
growled  the  man,  seizing  Ned  by  the  shoulder  and 
attempting  to  shove  him  roughly  aside,  when  a  new 
actor  appeared  on  the  scene. 

Old  Trayr  fast  drifting  into  the  lethargy  of  age, 
appeared  inside  of  the  screen  door,  his  great  body 


200  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

poised  as  if  for.  a  spring,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  a 
fierce  light,  and  his  great  teeth  parted  in  a  low 
growl. 

The  man  gazed  at  the  dog  with  a  look  of  horror. 
His  ugly  grasp  of  Ned's  shoulder  changed  to  a 
movement  of  appeal.  He  fell  back  a  little,  pulling 
the  boy  a  little  nearer  the  door. 

"  Look  thar  !  "  he  said  in  an  awed  voice. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Ned  carelessly,  glancing  up  with 
contempt  at  the  big  fellow  who  could  be  alarmed  at 
the  sight  of  a  dog. 

"Tell  me,  pon  honah!  Don't  yo'  see  nothin' 
thar?" 

Something  moved  Ned,  always  a  truthful  boy,  to 
fly  directly  in  the  face  of  fact. 

"  Of  course  I  don't,"  he  replied  carelessly. 
"  What  should  I  see  ?  " 

"  Don't  see  nothin'  that  looks  like  a  dog,  —  a  big 
black  dog,  suthin'  the  matter  with  one  hind  leg, — 
his  eyes  like  bloody  vengeance,  —  ready  to  tear  the 
man  to  pieces  as  did  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not !  "  said  Ned. 

"  Got  'em  agin  !  "  muttered  the  man,  falling  back 
and  retreating  cautiously  to  a  vantage  ground  under 
the  pepper-trees,  whence  he  looked  about  him  appre 
hensively,  as  if  expecting  to  meet  everywhere  the 
phantom  born  of  a  guilty  conscience. 

They  were  beginning  to  understand.  It  did  not 
surprise  them  greatly  when  he  recovered  his  bully 
ing  air  and  renewed  his  abusive  talk. 

"  I  'd  like  to  know  who  's  got  a  bettah  right  to 


A  PRISONER  OF  WAR.  201 

this  heah  'dobe  than  the  man  that  built  it.  You 
want  to  know  who  I  be  ?  I  'm  Hank  Jones.  An' 
what  'm  I  doin'  heah  ?  I  'm  come  to  claim  my 
prop'ty." 

He  laughed  coarsely  and  went  on. 

"  Got  things  fixed  up  right  smart,  ain't  yo'  ? 
Much  'bliged  to  yo',  I  'm  sho'.  I  '11  not  be  hard 
on  yo'.  Some  folks  'd  change  yo'  back  rent.  I  'm 
not  that  small.  Take  time  to  pack  up  yo'  traps, 
an'  be  off.  No  'bjection  ef  yo'  want  to  stay  till 
mo'nin'.  Reckon  I  '11  take  a  look  ovah  the  ranch, 
an'  see  ef  it 's  fahmed  to  my  likin'." 

He  swaggered  off  around  the  house  as  he  con 
cluded,  while  the  brothers  and  sister  looked  at  each 
other  in  dismay.  What  they  had  heard,  coarsely 
and  roughly  as  it  was  expressed,  came  to  them 
with  an  awful  conviction  of  its  truth. 

They  would  have  to  give  up  the  little  home 
they  had  toiled  so  long  to  secure,  and  which  they 
had  worked  so  cheerfully  to  make  comfortable  and 
attractive. 

"  Oh,  Ned,  I  'd  rather  die  !  "  moaned  Hope. 

"  Let 's  kill  him!  "  said  Martin  fiercely. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Ned.  He  was  busy  thinking, 
but  no  happy  inspiration  came  to  his  relief.  In 
stead,  he  remembered  the  schoolmaster's  misgiv 
ings,  the  reluctance  of  the  employees  of  the  Land 
Office,  the  hesitating  encouragement  of  the  Sur 
veyor  General  on  the  day  they  had  first  proposed 
entering  the  land. 

They  had  not  the  means  to  make  a  legal  contest. 


202  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Even  if  they  had,  it  was  not  probable  they  would 
have  any  show  of  winning  it. 

They  sat  down  together  on  a  seat  beneath  the 
larger  of  the  pepper-trees.  There  seemed  nothing 
left  for  them  but  submission. 

A  couple  of  hours  passed  by,  and  the  sun  sunk 
low  in  the  west,  its  level  rays  illuminating  all  the 
place.  The  children  looked  sadly  about  at  the  glo 
ries  of  the  sunset  sky  and  the  gilded  beauty  of  the 
hills,  wondering  if  it  was  the  last  time  they  would 
ever  see  a  sunset  there.  The  boys  forgot  that  they 
were  hungry,  forgot  that  their  hard  day's  work 
called  for  refreshment  and  repose.  Hope,  usually 
so  thoughtful  for  others,  was  blind  to  everything 
but  the  thought  that  they  were  about  to  leave 
their  little  home  and  be  cast  adrift  upon  the  world 
again. 

At  last  they  saw  a  large  figure  moving  through 
the  shrubbery,  and  drew  a  little  nearer  together 
as  they  recognized  the  stranger :  the  man  who  had 
announced  himself  as  Hank  Jones,  and  who  had 
come  to  seize  the  ranch. 

The  demands  of  the  animal,  in  big,  coarse  fel 
lows  like  this  Missouri  giant,  outweigh  the  strength 
of  the  spirit,  and  even  foil  their  own  vicious 
schemes. 

Hank  Jones  was  hungry.  Hunger  made  him 
more  complaisant.  A  few  hours  before  he  would 
not  have  parted  with  his  claim  on  the  ranch  at  any 
price.  Now,  he  was  ready  to  abate  it. 

"  Now,   lookee   heah,  young  uns,"  he  began,  in 


A  PRISONER  OF  WAR.  203 

what  he  intended  for  a  conciliatory  tone.  "Yo' 
uns  all  know  what  minors  means  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Ned. 

"  An'  bein'  minors,  yo'  ain't  got  no  shadow  o'  a 
show  in  any  coht  o'  law." 

The  young  people  were  speechless. 

"  Now,  yo'  see  I  got  the  dead  drop  on  yo',  so 
fah  's  the  title  to  this  heah  prop'ty  's  consehned  ?  " 

"  Did  you  ever  prove  upon  it  ?  "  asked  Ned, 
sharply. 

"  Don't  yo'  be  too  smaht !  "  admonished  Hank 
Jones  sourly,  eying  the  boy  with  a  malevolent  look. 
"  I  've  proved  up  a  heap  mo  'n  yo  '11  evah  do.  I 
broke  the  first  land  heah ;  I  put  up  that  'dobe  yon. 
I  Ve  done  a  sight  mo  'n  them  rich  land-grabbers 
evah  do.  I  'm  a  M'ssou'y  gen'leman,  I  am,  'n'  I 
can  sweah  my  way  through  any  coht,  slick 's  ligbt- 
nin',  'n'  don't  yo'  fohget  it !  But  what  I 's  'bout 
to  say  's  this :  Ef  yo'  want  to  buy  me  off,  I  'm  fo' 
sale.  My  figgah  's  jes  ten  thousand  dollahs." 

"  But  we  hav  n't  any  money  —  "  began  Ned. 

Hope  put  her  hand  gently  over  his  mouth.  The 
spirit  of  her  revolutionary  grandmothers  flashed  up 
in  her. 

"  Don't  talk  to  him.  I  would  n't  buy  him  off  if 
we  had  a  hundred  thousand.  I  don't  believe  he  has 
any  right  to  the  place.  I  don't  believe  the  courts 
would  help  on  such  injustice." 

The  big  Missourian  looked  at  her  with  secret 
admiration. 

"  She  's  a  'tarnal   tongue  for  a  gal  !  "  he  said 


204  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

aloud.  "  Don't  le'  's  jaw  any  mo'  'bout  the  busi 
ness  this  evenin'.  Mought  be  we  could  fix  it  up  to- 
morrah.  Reckon  yo'  got  some  friends  what  '11  loan 
the  stamps.  Hain't  got  a  side  o'  bacon  hangin' 
round  heah,  somewhar?  Durned  ef  I  don't  see 
what  grub  thar  is  on  this  ranch !  " 

Body  had  the  ascendancy  now.  Hank  Jones 
would  not  press  his  claim  further  until  he  had  some 
thing  to  eat.  It  occurred  to  Ned  that  it  might  be 
well,  as  a  matter  of  policy,  to  feed  their  tormentor. 
He  looked  at  Hope,  but  Hope  pressed  her  lips 
tightly  together  and  shook  her  head.  The  little 
housewife  thought  of  her  store  of  good  things  in 
the  pantry  —  her  Saturday's  baking  of  custard  pies 
and  tarts  and  brownbread  —  and  trembled  for  them 
if  this  huge  gourmand  should  come  across  them. 

Seeing  that  the  broad  hint  he  had  given  brought 
no  response,  Hank  Jones  started  off  to  forage  for 
himself. 

"  If  we  could  only  get  him  out  of  the  way  till  we 
got  our  spring  crops  in,  we  'd  have  something  to 
fight  with,"  said  Ned,  gloomily. 

The  boys  were  standing  in  characteristic  atti 
tudes,  Ned  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  a  scowl 
on  his  forehead,  and  a  look  of  deep  perplexity  in 
his  eyes ;  Martin  leaning  against  a  tree  and  whis 
tling  a  melancholy  tune. 

Hope,  concerned  for  her  pantry  and  the  good 
things  in  it,  dropped  upon  her  knees  and  peered 
under  the  low  branches  of  the  trees,  the  better  to 
observe  the  actions  of  the  visitor.  He  was  nearing 


A  PBISONEE  OF  WAE.  205 

the  rear  corner  of  the  house.  He  was  stopping-, 
and  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen.  He 
was  going  in  !  No,  he  had  changed  his  mind  and 
was  striking  off  across  the  garden.  Where  could 
he  be  bound  now  ?  Ah,  she  saw  ! 

When  the  Missourian  had  squatted  on  the  land, 
years  before,  as  soon  as  he  had  a  roof  over  his  head 
and  before  he  thought  of  providing  any  shelter  for 
his  stock,  in  fact  before  he  so  much  as  made  a 
kitchen,  he  had  been  true  to  Southern  traditions 
and  put  up  a  smokehouse. 

This  smokehouse  was  more  suggestive  of  a  stock 
ade  for  purposes  of  border  warfare  or  defense  than 
of  the  innocent  purposes  for  which  it  was  designed. 
In  the  scarcity  of  mill  lumber,  it  had  been  con 
structed  of  massive,  rough-hewn  logs.  It  was  des 
titute  of  windows,  its  only  opening  being  a  stout 
but  clumsy  door  in  front. 

To  secure  his  smoked  meats  against  depredation, 
the  builder  had  attached  a  heavy  iron  hasp  and 
staple  to  door  and  building,  and  hanging  from 
the  latter  was  a  rusty  padlock,  long  disused,  picked 
up  and  hung  there  by  Dr.  John,  when  they  first 
looked  at  the  building.  Ned  had  utilized  this 
smokehouse  for  storing  his  box  material,  and  there 
was  nothing  in  it  but  a  few  bundles  of  shooks  and 
some  empty  boxes. 

It  was  towards  this  building  that  the  Missourian, 
drawn  by  the  charm  of  old  associations,  had  bent 
his  steps.  "He's  going  in,"  said  Hope,  in  a  low 
voice  thrilling  with  excitement.  *'  He 's  going  in  ! 


206  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

No,  he  is  n't.    Oh  dear  !    He 's  turning  away.    No, 
he's  put  his  head  in,  he  is  going  in  —  " 

"  What  in  the  creation  is  the  matter,  Hope  ?  " 
"  What  do  you  mean,  Hope  ? "  exclaimed  both 
boys  in  a  breath. 

"  He  *s  in  !  "  cried  the  girl,  and  without  another 
word  she  flew  like  a  deer  through  the  shrubbery 
and  across  the  garden,  swung  the  door  upon  the 
luckless  forager,  caught  the  padlock,  slipped  the 
hasp  into  place  and  the  arm  of  the  padlock  through 
the  staple,  springing  it  shut  with  all  the  force  of 
her  small  hands.  Not  content  with  this,  she  darted 
to  a  pile  of  timbers  near  by,  and  had  dragged  out 
a  stout  piece  and  was  bracing  it  against  the  door 
when  the  boys  came  up.  They  took  in  the  situa 
tion  at  a  glance. 

"  Good  for  you,  Hope !  "  said  Ned,  beneath  his 
breath,  while  Martin  clapped  his  hands  and  shouted 
in  an  ecstasy  of  delight. 

"  Le'  me  out !  " 

The  slow-witted  Missourian  had  stopped  rum 
maging  among  the  boxes  and  shook  the  door 
fiercely  before  he  realized  the  situation. 

The  only  answer  to  the  prisoner's  demand  was 
a  fresh  peal  of  laughter  from  Martin. 

"  Le'  me  out  or  I  '11  kick  the  dog-goned  place  all 
to  slivers ! " 

"  Come  now,  boys  !  "  said  the  prisoner  persua 
sively.  "  Quit  yo'  foolin'  ari'  le'  me  out." 

"  Shan 't  do  it !  "  said  Martin,  saucily. 

"It's  a  good  joke,  boys.     A  'tarnal  good  joke," 


A  PRISONER  OF  WAR.  207 

said  the  Missouriaii  from  behind  his  bars.  "  But 
it 's  gittin'  late.  I  ain't  had  a  bite  sence  mawnin'. 
Le'  me  out  an'  I  '11  call  it  quits." 

"  Will  you  give  up  your  claim  on  the  ranch  ?  " 
asked  Ned,  in  a  business-like  tone. 

"Not  much  I  don't.  Oh,  yo'  young  rascals! 
I  '11  lick  yo'  for  this  when  I  git  out  o'  heah." 

But  he  had  the  empty  air  for  an  audience.  Ned 
had  caught  up  the  milk-pail  and  was  off  to  the 
cow.  Hope  had  run  down  to  attend  her  little 
chickens,  and  Martin  was  kindling  a  fire  in  the 
kitchen  stove. 


CHAPTEK  XXVIII. 

HOW   HANK   JONES'S   CLAIM  WAS   SETTLED. 

TEN  days  later  Dr.  John,  starting  for  an  after- 
dinner  walk  across  The  Brook,  saw  Ned  walking 
slowly  towards  him  upon  the  bridge,  his  head  hang 
ing  in  a  dejected  manner,  while  he  absently  tore 
the  bark  from  a  long  willow  switch  that  he  carried. 

"  Something  is  the  matter  with  those  children," 
said  Dr.  John  to  himself,  "  and  I  shan't  rest  an 
other  night  until  I  find  out  what  it  is." 

Since  the  bridge  had  been  built  and  the  world 
had  rushed  in  upon  Home  Ranch,  Dr.  John  had 
ceased  to  go  there  as  frequently  as  before.  His  in 
terest  in  the  young  people,  however,  was  as  strong 
as  ever,  and  for  several  days  he  had  noticed  that 
they  held  themselves  strangely  aloof.  Walking 
down  to  the  station,  the  previous  Sunday,  he  had 
come  upon  Martin,  on  his  way  alone  to  the  Sun 
day  School  in  the  village.  When  the  doctor  had 
inquired  why  the  others  were  not  along,  as  usual, 
the  young  fellow  had  reddened  and  stammered  an 
evasive  reply. 

"  Something  's  certainly  wrong !  "  reflected  the 
doctor.  "  I  only  hope  they  have  n't  quarreled 
among  themselves." 


HANK  JONES'S   CLAIM  SETTLED.  209 

"Well,  Ned?"  he  said  heartily.  "How  are 
things  going  on  up  at  the  ranch?  " 

"  Pretty  well,  I  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Ned. 
Then  he  was  overpowered  by  the  sense  of  the 
falsehood  he  was  uttering. 

"  Not  exactly  that,  either.  Things  are  not  going 
well  at  all,  Dr.  John.  In  fact,  they  're  going 
about  as  badly  as  they  could,"  he  said  desperately, 
resolved  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  mat 
ter  and  take  counsel  with  the  doctor. 

"  Why,  how  is  this,  my  boy  ?  Gophers  eating 
the  roots  of  the  young  fig-trees,  raccoons  after  the 
chickens,  or  the  cow  got  the  colic  ?  Out  with  it, 
whatever  it  is  ! " 

"  Dr.  John,"  said  Ned  piteously,  disregarding  the 
bantering  tone,  "  did  you  ever  know  Hank  Jones, 
the  man  who  first  entered  on  our  land  ?  " 

"Know  him?  Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  a  quizzi 
cal  smile  dwelling  on  his  face  for  a  moment.  "  He 
used  to  hang  about  the  village  before  he  tried 
farming.  I  can't  say  that  we  were  ever  formally 
introduced,  but  I  once  made  his  acquaintance  over 
my  hen-roost,  after  dark." 

"  Oh,  is  he  that  kind  of  a  man  ?  "  exclaimed 
Ned.  "  Well,  he  came  up  here  a  week  ago  last 
Saturday.  He  says  we  have  no  right  to  file  on  the 
land,  being  minors  with  a  parent  living.  He  says 
he  has  a  better  right  to  the  land  than  we.  He  says 
he  can  prove  it  in  the  court.  He  told  us  to  pack 
up  our  things  and  be  off." 

"  My  patience  !  "  said  the  doctor,  who  evidently 


210  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

had  very  little  patience  to  spare,  on  receiving  this 
intelligence.  "Why  didn't  you  call  me  over? 
Don't  worry  your  heads  over  such  a  preposterous 
claim.  Have  you  heard  anything  from  him  since  ?  " 

"  Why  —  well  —  you  see  —  the  truth  is,"  stam 
mered  Ned,  "  he  did  n't  go  off.  He  's  up  there 
still." 

"  Up  there  still !  "  repeated  the  doctor  wrath- 
f ully.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  's  taken  posses 
sion?" 

"  N  —  no  !  "  returned  Ned  timidly.  "  He  has  n't 
exactly  taken  possession.  In  fact,  it 's  rather  the 
other  way.  We  —  have  taken  possession  —  of 
him." 

"  What  !  "  exploded  the  doctor,  turning  around 
and  facing  the  boy. 

"  We  —  captured  him.  Or  rather  Hope  did. 
She  's  got  him  in  the  smokehouse." 

Ned  wound  up  with  a  hysterical  chuckle. 

"  Ned  Austin,  are  you  crazy  ?  The  Hank  Jones 
I  am  talking  of  is  a  giant  of  a  man,  six  feet  and  a 
half  high  and  weighing  at  least  two  hundred  and 
seventy-five  pounds." 

"  I  know  it,"  gasped  Ned,  "  but  we  've  got  him. 
And  Hope  did  it.  He  was  prowling  about,  trying 
to  find  something  to  eat.  He  went  into  the  smoke 
house.  Hope  saw  him  and  slipped  up  and  fastened 
him  in.  He  's  been  there  ten  days." 

"  Hold  on,  Ned !  I  can't  stand  any  more.  Ha, 
ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

The  hills  echoed  and  reechoed  the  hearty  peals 


HANK  JONES'S  CLAIM  SETTLED.  211 

of  laughter.  An  old  blue  heron,  alarmed  by  the 
sound,  left  her  nest  in  the  tall  sycamore  above 
them,  and  soared  up  the  canon.  Ned  eyed  the 
doctor  resentfully. 

"  It 's  no  laughing  matter  to  us,"  he  said,  "  I 
did  n't  think  you  'd  make  fun  of  us." 

"  Big  Hank  Jones  jailed  by  little  Hope  !  That 
great  braggart  taken  prisoner  by  a  slight,  fourteen- 
year-old  girl !  "  laughed  Dr.  John.  "  But  what  are 
you  going  to  do  with  him? " 

"  That 's  just  the  trouble,  doctor,"  replied  the 
boy  gravely.  "  We  don't  quite  know.  We 
thought  if  we  could  only  keep  him  out  of  the  way 
till  we  got  this  spring's  crop  in  and  some  money  to 
hire  a  lawyer,  —  but  he  makes  such  a  fuss :  such  an 
awful  noise.  We  've  been  on  nettles  for  fear  some 
body  would  come  to  see  us  and  hear  him.  This 
afternoon  he  's  been  more  quiet.  I  'm  afraid  the 
smokehouse  is  n't  healthy.  I  think  he  's  getting 
weaker." 

"  Very  possible.  It  is  n't  exactly  conducive  to 
strength  to  fast  for  ten  days  running." 

"  Oh,  we  've  fed  him,"  Ned  hastened  to  explain, 
"  through  a  chink  in  the  wall.  Martin  was  for 
giving  him  nothing  but  cornmeal  and  water,  —  the 
same  we  feed  the  little  chickens  ;  thought  it  would 
break  him  down  quickest.  But  I  insisted  on  bread 
and  water ;  only  Hope  will  butter  the  bread  and 
throw  in  a  piece  of  pie  once  a  day.  I  've  given 
him  every  chance  to  do  the  right  thing.  Twice  a 
day,  regularly,  I  've  gone  there  and  asked  him  how 
much  he  'd  take  for  his  claim." 


212  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  And  what  did  he  say?" 

"  At  first  he  swore  he  would  n't  take  a  penny 
less  than  ten  thousand  dollars.  But  he 's  dropped 
since.  This  morning  he  came  down  to  a  thousand. 
He 's  awful  hungry,"  concluded  Ned  confiden 
tially. 

"  Now  you  're  laughing  again,  Dr.  John,"  he 
added  reproachfully. 

"  Ned,  I  protest  I  was  never  more  serious  in  my 
life,"  asserted  the  doctor,  but  a  mirthful  gleam  in 
his  eye  and  a  little  break  in  his  voice  contradicted 
his  solemn  statement. 

"  Suppose  I  go  up  and  interview  this  —  this 
prisoner  of  yours." 

"  If  you  only  would  !  "  cried  the  boy.  It  seemed 
a  little  cowardly,  but  it  was  altogether  comforta 
ble,  to  shift  this  heavy  burden  to  Dr.  John's  shoul 
ders. 

Ned  made  just  one  more  remark,  011  the  way  up 
to  the  house  :  — 

"  It 's  an  awful  responsibility  to  be  the  head  of 
a  family." 

The  doctor's  eyes  twinkled  again  at  the  sight  of 
Hope's  guilty  start  as  she  came  out  of  the  chicken- 
yard  and  saw  him.  As  they  approached  the  house, 
the  reason  for  Ned's  solicitude  became  manifest. 

A  series  of  unearthly  groans,  howls  and  fierce 
invectives,  accompanied  by  the  sound  of  lusty  kicks, 
were  heard  in  the  direction  of  the  smokehouse. 

As  they  turned  the  corner  of  the  house  they 
came  upon  Martin,  mounting  guard  on  an  old 


HANK  JONES'S  CLAIM  SETTLED.  213 

sawhorse.  He  dismounted  and  came  toward  the 
doctor,  who  smiled  at  his  careworn  look. 

At  the  sound  of  footsteps  the  commotion  in  the 
smokehouse  subsided,  only  to  be  renewed  in  a  dif 
ferent  key. 

"Help!  Help!  Muhdah!  Le'  me  out  o' 
heah !  Them  little  beggahs  locked  me  up.  I  'm 
the  rightful  ownah  this  ranch  !  " 

"  He  might  take  a  notion  to  burrow  out,"  ex 
plained  Ned  in  a  troubled  whisper. 

"  Ask  him  how  much  he  '11  take  now  to  make 
peace,"  suggested  Dr.  John. 

44  How  much  will  you  take  to  settle  your  claim 
against  the  ranch,  Mr.  Jones  ?  "  said  Ned  in  a 
business-like  tone. 

There  was  a  moment 's  silence,  as  if  the  prisoner 
was  meditating. 

"Five  hundred  dollars,"  came  the  weak  reply. 
"  Yo'  can  sholy  borry  the  money  from  somebody. 
Thar 's  Dr.  John,  now.  Jest  ast  him.  Thar  's  no 
need  of  tellin'  him  what  it 's  fo'.  Tell  him  yo' 
'low  yo'  got  in  a  tight  place,  an'  that  '11  help  yo' 
out.  *  He  '11  take  pleazhah  in  'commodaten'  o'  yo'." 

"  I  guess  you  '11  take  less  than  that,  Hank 
Jones,"  said  the  doctor  coolly.  "  Suppose  you 
settle  for  a  ticket  back  to  the  city,  and  a  good 
kicking." 

"  Thundah !  "  came  the  startled  response  from 
the  interior  of  the  smokehouse.  Hank  Jones  re 
cognized  the  doctor's  voice,  and  knew  that  his  game 
was  up. 


214  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

The  doctor  turned  the  key  in  the  padlock  and 
the  door  swung  wide,  disclosing  the  captive  sitting 
in  a  disconsolate  attitude  on  the  floor.  His  libera 
tor  seized  him  by  the  collar  and  jerked  him  out, 
administering  the  promised  kick  as  he  did  so. 

"  Take  that,  you  lazy  hulk  of  a  fellow  !  "  said 
Dr.  John.  "  The  next  time  you  want  to  browbeat 
any  one  into  pensioning  off  an  idle  vagabond,  let  it 
be  a  man  of  your  own  size,  and  not  a  household  of 
honest,  industrious  children.  If  ever  you  show 
yourself  in  this  locality  again,  I  have  an  account  of 
my  own  to  settle  with  you,  and  I  promise  you  a 
short  shrift." 

Ned  and  Martin  and  Hope  beheld  the  discomfi 
ture  of  their  enemy  in  surprise,  and  not  without  a 
sense  of  amusement. 

As  big  Hank  turned  to  go,  he  caught  sight  of 
Martin's  beaming  face,  and  shook  his  fist  mena 
cingly  at  the  boy. 

"  Nevah  yo'  mind,  yo'  little  rascal !  Yo  '11  nevah 
play  no  mo'  monkey  shines  on  me.  I  '11  have  the 
law  on  yo'  yet.  Yo's  the  ornariest,  mischievousest, 
good  fo'  nothin'  "  — 

His  anathema  was  interrupted  in  an  unexpected 
fashion.  Hope  took  a  step  forward,  put  her  hand 
on  Martin's  shoulder,  and  looking  Mr.  Jones  full 
in  the  face,  said  quietly :  — 

"  I  did  it." 

"  Yo'  ?  "  The  Missourian  stopped  short  and  sur 
veyed  the  little  girl  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 

"  Yes,"  said  Hope  simply. 


HANK  JONES'S  CLAIM  SETTLED.  215 

A  look  of  unmistakable  admiration  came  into 
the  rowdy's  face. 

"  Well,  I  vum  !  " 

With  this  exclamation,  he  turned  on  his  heel, 
and  Home  Ranch  saw  him  no  more. 

After  the  prisoner  had  taken  his  leave  it  was 
the  children  who  were  merry  and  light-hearted,  the 
doctor  who  was  troubled  and  thoughtful. 

"  I  wonder  if  we  ought  not,  in  justice,  pay  him 
for  the  improvements  on  the  place,"  said  Ned, 
when  their  laughter  had  subsided.  "  He  built 
them,  and  we  certainly  have  the  benefit  of  them." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  with  the  thought  of 
any  such  obligation,"  contended  Dr.  John  warmly. 
"  He  left  them  behind  him,  simply  because  he 
could  n't  carry  them  away  or  sell  them.  Some  day 
when  you  are  able,  make  up  for  them  by  giving 
help  to  some  poor  family  in  the  valley,  ruined  by 
the  corrupt  influences  of  Hank  Jones  and  his 
drunken,  gambling  set." 

"  That 's  a  good  idea,"  said  Ned.  "  I  confess, 
Dr.  John,  the  man  really  impressed  me  with  the 
weakness  of  our  claim  upon  the  ranch.  Of  course 
it 's  all  over  now,  and  we  can  afford  to  laugh  about 
it." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  can  afford  to  laugh 
about  it  or  not,"  said  Dr.  John  soberly.  "Your 
position  is  not  so  sound  as  I  should  like  to  have  it." 

"  I  thought  that  was  all  settled  long  ago,"  said 
Ned  in  surprise.  "  We  have  never  heard  anything 
since  I  made  the  entry  " 


216  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  But  I  have,"  interrupted  the  doctor.  "  I  have 
been  following  the  matter  very  closely.  Your  ap 
plication  created  quite  a  tempest  in  the  political 
teapot  at  Washington,  and  it  has  been  raging  ever 
since.  The  question  of  your  rights  has  gone  from 
one  authority  to  another.  It  has  traveled  from  de 
partment  to  department.  It  has  been  in  the  hands 
of  a  congressional  committee.  For  a  time  it  looked 
as  if  it  would  be  approved;  but  I  will  tell  you 
frankly  that  the  latest  reports  are  discouraging." 

uOn  what  grounds  do  they  object  to  granting 
it?  "  asked  Ned,  turning  very  pale. 

"  On  the  ground  that  you  are  a  minor  with  a 
living  parent.  If  your  father  should  regain  his 
health  he  could  of  course  claim  the  right  which  you 
would  have  already  exercised." 

"  But  he  never  would  !  "  asserted  Martin  hotly. 

"  Our  opinion  as  to  that  makes  no  difference  in 
the  question  of  law,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  ?  Give  up  the  land  ?  " 
asked  Ned. 

44  You  have  two  alternatives  open  to  you." 

"  And  they  are  ?  " 

44  Continue  to  live  on  here,  as  you  have  been  do 
ing,  taking  your  chances  of  being  disturbed  by  the 
national  authorities  or  some  rival  settler,  and,  if 
no  one  interferes  before,  enter  the  land  again,  in 
proper  form,  when  you  are  twenty-one.  Or  — 
bring  your  father  up  here,  and  amend  the  entry  at 
once,  if  the  final  ruling  is  adverse,  by  placing  it  in 
his  name." 


HANK  JONES'S  CLAIM  SETTLED.  217 

"We  can't  .do  that,"  said  Hope,  her  cheeks 
burning  and  her  eyes  filling.  "  How  can  you  think, 
Dr.  John,  that  we  would  run  the  risk  of  sacrificing 
our  father's  life  for  our  own  selfish  benefit  ?  " 

"  My  dear  little  girl,"  replied  the  doctor  kindly, 
"  do  you  suppose  I  would  suggest  anything  to 
you  that  could  work  any  possible  injury  to  your 
father?" 

"  Dr.  John,  do  you  mean  that  it  would  be  safe  — 
surely  safe  — to  move  our  father  up  here  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  safe,  Hope,  if  you  will  let  my  friend 
manage  the  moving  for  you.  Your  father  will  not 
be  injured  in  the  least  by  the  journey,  if  it  is  made 
under  the  proper  conditions.  I  should  have  ad 
vised  it  from  the  first,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
difficulty  of  getting  here.  Now  that  the  bridge  is 
built,  that  objection  is  removed.  He  will  be  a 
hundred  times  better  off  up  here  than  in  any  hos 
pital.  If  I  must  confess  the  truth,  I  don't  exactly 
like  the  treatment  your  father  is  getting  profession 
ally.  I  have  disapproved  of  it  all  along.  They 
give  him  too  many  drugs." 

The  young  people  were  somewhat  puzzled  as 
they  listened  to  this  explanation.  Evidently  the 
doctor's  friend  in  the  city  had  told  him  more  than 
he,  Dr.  John,  had  thought  it  best  to  repeat  to  them. 
And  how  strange  to  hear  a  physician  denounce  the 
tools  of  his  trade  ! 

The  doctor  interpreted  their  thoughts  in  some 
degree :  — 

"  Mind,  I  don't  say  that  we  can  get  him  well,  or 


218  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

even  promise  that  there  will  be  any  decided  im 
provement.  There  is  n't  a  man  living  who  can  pre 
dict  the  outcome  of  such  a  case.  I  do  say  that  the 
conditions  will  be  much  more  favorable ;  that  his 
chances  will  be  improved.  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Dr. 
John,  in  a  fine  rage  with  the  traditions  of  his 
school,  "  when  will  people  learn  the  sin  of  shutting 
patients  up  in  a  gruesome  city  building,  surrounded 
by  the  sick  and  the  dying,  violating  the  highest  de 
mands  of  nature,  and  then  expecting  them  to  get 
well?  The  sanitarium  of  the  future  will  have  pure 
air,  cheerful  surroundings,  healthful  diet,  and  ban 
ishment  of  drugs  for  its  cornerstone.  Of  course 
this  is  rank  heresy  for  a  physician  to  be  preaching. 
Now,  recollect,  you  young  people  must  n't  tell  of 
me,  or  my  profession  might  '  fire '  me." 

"There  is  another  reason  why  I  feel  like  hasten 
ing  this  change,"  said  Dr.  John  to  Hope  as  he  was 
leaving  the  house,  after  their  plans  for  the  sick 
man's  journey  had  been  laid  out.  "  For  several 
months  past  your  father  has  been  making  inco 
herent  sounds.  I  am  convinced  he  is  making  an 
effort  to  control  his  speech.  No  one  down  there 
understands  him  or  tries  to  ;  indeed,  no  one  has 
the  time ;  but  I  believe  if  you  and  the  boys,  or  any 
people  who  cared  for  him,  could  be  near  him  all  of 
the  time  and  give  him  the  proper  attention,  they 
might  come,  in  time,  to  make  out  what  he  tries  to 
say.  It  would  be  a  great  comfort  to  him." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

HOW    GOD    REMEMBERED. 

ONLY  a  number  in  a  hospital  ward ! 

How  many  times  Henry  Austin  had  repeated 
this  sentence  to  himself.  He, — all  his  life  a 
strong  and  active  man  earning  an  independent  liv 
ing  and  providing  a  comfortable  support  for  his 
family,  loved  and  respected,  and  looked  to  for 
counsel  and  help,  —  to  be  for  three  long  years  re 
duced  to  this ! 

A  number  in  a  hospital  ward !  checked  and 
billeted  and  laid  by  to  await  that  awful  day,  so 
terrible  when  it  approaches  a  man  like  this,  when 
the  sheet  would  be  drawn  over  his  face,  and  he 
would  be  carried  off,  like  other  poor  fellows  he  had 
seen,  to  lie  on  a  dissecting  table  or  be  buried  in 
a  pauper's  grave. 

Three  long  years  !  How  his  soul  raged  within 
him,  and  he  strove  to  break  the  bonds  that  held 
him  as  he  thought  upon  it.  Somewhere  he  had 
read  of  a  soldier  in  the  army,  sent  out  on  a  scout 
ing  expedition,  and  prisoned  by  the  timbers  of  a 
fallen  building,  who  found  himself  looking  down 
the  muzzle  of  his  own  gun,  knowing  that  the  set 
tling  of  the  timbers,  at  any  moment,  might  sign  his 


220  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

death  warrant  and  send  a  bullet  crashing  through 
his  brain.  The  man  had  finally  been  rescued, 
hours  later,  a  raving  maniac. 

Just  so  he  had  lain  there  and  faced  death,  not 
minute  after  minute  and  hour  after  hour,  but  day 
after  day,  month  after  month,  year  after  year. 
Why  had  his  own  brain  not  given  away  ?  How 
did  it  come  that  the  delicate  mechanism  had  sur 
vived  the  .frenzied  beating  of  the  soul  against  its 
bars? 

A  number  in  a  hospital  ward,  bound  hand  and  foot 
by  disease,  unable  to  give  any  outward  sign  of  the 
passionate  longings,  the  bitter  regrets,  that  surged 
within  him.  The  children  he  had  loved  so  dearly, 
left  to  him  as  a  sacred  charge  by  his  dying  wife, 
were  struggling  on  alone,  deprived  of  his  help  and 
guidance.  Thousands  of  men  who  loved  their 
homes  and  families  not  half  so  well  as  he  had 
loved  his,  daily  passed  up  and  down  the  street  out 
side,  on  their  way  to  and  from  their  work.  Other 
men,  who  had  been  permitted  to  retain  the  brute 
strength  with  which  nature  had  endowed  them, 
beat  their  wives  and  abused  their  little  children, 
and  spent  their  days  in  carousal,  while  he  lay  there 
inert  and  powerless,  an  interesting  study  for  medi 
cal  students,  a  puzzle  for  the  doctors. 

Only  a  number  in  a  hospital  ward  !  The  world 
going  on  without  him.  Forgotten  by  his  old 
friends.  A  lost  factor  in  humanity.  Forgotten,  — 
yes,— 

Forgotten  by  God ! 


HOW  GOD  REMEMBERED.  221 

Others  had  been  remembered. 

For  three  winters  the  grass  had  grown  over  the 
grave  of  the  man  who  had  been  brought  there  the 
day  he  had  come,  and  who  had  occupied  the  cot 
beside  him.  The  poor  fellow  who  had  come  in  last 
night,  his  legs  crushed  by  a  cable  car,  was  even 
now  being  carried  out  on  a  plank.  He,  alone,  was 
forgotten. 

The  corpse  and  the  men  who  bore  it  had  gone 
out,  and  an  oppressive  silence  reigned  in  the 
place. 

Perhaps  it  would  be  his  turn  next.  Perhaps 
God  would  remember. 

The  door  was  opening  again.  There  was  a 
short  parley.  A  visitor  had  arrived.  It  was  no 
one  for  him.  His  visitor,  —  his  heart  warmed  at 
the  thought,  —  his  one  faithful  friend  raised  up 
for  him  in  a  miraculous  way,  came  only  on  Sun 
day,  and  this  was  Thursday. 

Those  visits  were  the  one  break  upon  his  mo 
notonous  existence,  the  sole  thread  of  connection 
between  him  and  the  life  he  had  left. 

What  a  singular  insight  this  mysterious  visitor 
seemed  to  have,  talking  of  the  things  he  most 
liked  to  hear  about,  summing  up  the  important 
news  of  the  week,  bringing  illustrated  papers, 
which  he  held  so  patiently  for  him  to  look  over, 
reading  aloud  something  that  would  give  him  food 
for  thought  during  all  the  dreary  week  that  was  to 
follow.  Best  of  all,  he  brought  news  of  the  chil 
dren,  with  little  remembrances  from  them  ;  told  of 


222  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

the  brave  fight  they  were  making,  and  of  their  suc 
cess  ;  assured  him  that  they  were  growing  in  mind 
as  well  as  thriving  in  a  worldly  way,  and  —  most 
precious  assurance  of  all  —  that  their  thoughts  still 
clung  to  him.  How  greedily  he  listened  to  the  lit 
tle  homely  details  of  their  daily  life,  the  life  from 
which  he  was  barred  out,  he,  whom  God  had  for 
gotten. 

Steps  were  coming  down  the  ward.  He  closed 
his  eyes,  feigning  sleep.  He  did  not  want  to  see 
the  strange  faces  of  other  people's  friends,  did  not 
want  to  feel  the  doctor's  business  grip  upon  his 
pulse,  or  to  serve  as  a  text  for  a  disquisition  to  some 
new  students. 

The  footsteps  were  pausing  beside  his  cot,  paus 
ing  many  moments,  —  minutes.  It  was  not  like 
physicians  or  students  to  have  so  much  patience. 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  saw  a  familiar  face,  full 
of  compassion,  looking  down  upon  him.  Had  he 
then  lost  the  count  of  time,  and  was  the  Sabbath 
come  again,  bringing  with  it  this  kind  and  never- 
failing  visitor  ? 

"  Mr.  Austin,"  said  the  visitor,  "  I  have  come 
to  take  you  to  your  children." 

Not  forgotten  !  Oh,  praise  God  !  not  forgotten. 
To  be  taken  away  from  the  dull  ward  and  stifling 
city  air,  out  into  the  country.  To  see  green  fields 
and  flowers  and  fresh  green  foliage,  to  hear  the 
birds  sing,  and  the  low  of  cattle,  the  ripple  of  run 
ning  water,  the  music  of  his  children's  voices. 

In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  he  lifted  his 


HOW  GOD  REMEMBERED.  223 

hand,  his  helpless  right  hand,  which  fell  again 
powerless  by  his  side  ;  but  the  visitor  observed 
the  action,  and  his  face  brightened. 

Doubt,  unbelief,  a  dumb  surprise,  succeeded  by 
a  look  of  exultation,  swept  over  the  face  of  the  in 
valid.  But  he  glanced  fearfully  towards  the  door, 
where  a  physician  stood  talking  to  the  nurse  in 
charge  of  the  ward. 

"That's  all  settled.  I  have  made  it  all  right 
with  them.  Now  I  am  going  to  help  to  get  you 
ready,  and  we  will  start  on  the  noon  train." 

Under  the  skilful  direction  of  Dr.  John's  friend, 
it  took  but  a  short  time  to  make  ready  the  sick 
man's  simple  belongings,  and  to  prepare  him  for 
the  journey,  protected  by  a  warm  overcoat  and 
fleecy  traveling  rug,  tucked  carefully  about  him,  in 
the  great  wheeled  chair. 

As  he  was  carried  out  of  the  ward  he  looked 
back  and  saw  one  of  the  attendants  taking  down 
the  card  and  number  from  the  head  of  his  cot. 

A  leaden  weight  seemed  to  drop  from  him.  His 
shackles  had  fallen  away. 

The  great  invalid  chair  was  put  into  the  ambu 
lance  and  carried  down  to  the  ferry,  with  scarcely 
a  jolt  or  jar  of  its  occupant. 

How  good  the  world  was,  after  all,  and  how 
kind  the  people !  Willing  hands  aided  in  lifting 
down  the  invalid,  drivers  of  loaded  express  teams 
reined  up  their  horses,  hack-drivers  turned  aside, 
to  give  the  chair  right  of  way. 

Every  one  looked  pitiful,  and  he  heard  words  of 


224  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

gentle  commiseration  on  every  side.  A  lady  who 
brushed  past  him  laid  a  fresh  rose  in  his  hand.  A 
little  child  came  and  leaned  against  his  chair,  look 
ing  up  into  his  wasted  face  with  sad,  inquiring 
eyes.  Train  hands  hurried  to  his  companion's 
side  to  give  him  assistance  in  lifting  his  charge 
aboard  the  train.  An  old  white-haired  gentleman 
(it  was  Mr.  Abbott)  followed  them  into  the  bag 
gage  car,  exchanged  a  few  words  with  his  friend, 
and  then  turned  to  the  sick  man  with  some  warm 
words  of  commendation  for  the  children  that  it  did 
his  heart  good  to  hear. 

There  was  quite  a  little  crowd  waiting  at  their 
destination,  Ned  and  Martin  being  foremost  to 
welcome  him.  Every  one  wanted  to  help  about 
getting  him  off  the  car  and  into  the  light  spring 
wagon  that  was  waiting.  Many  were  the  cautions 
given  to  the  driver,  many  and  cordial  the  expres 
sions  of  sympathy  and  interest  in  him. 

He  had  not  only  regained  his  identity  once 
more ;  he  already  seemed  a  person  of  importance 
in  this  small  place,  and  the  open  solicitude  for  his 
comfort,  the  general  anxiety  for  his  safety,  moved 
him  to  wonder,  for  the  first  time  during  his  long 
illness,  whether  he  might  not  possibly  regain  his 
health  after  all. 

It  was  so  different  from  being  merely  a  number 
in  a  hospital  ward. 

How  carefully  the  man  drove  over  the  smooth 
road,  keeping  the  horses  in  a  walk  all  the  way, 
avoiding  the  little  ruts  channeled  by  a  recent 


HOW  GOD  REMEMBERED.  225 

shower,  and  the  rocks  that  were  now  and  then  ex 
posed,  while  Dr.  John  and  the  boys  steadied  his 
chair.  How  fresh  the  face  of  all  the  country, 
bathed  in  the  noon  sunshine,  radiant  in  its  winter 
verdure. 

And  now  they  are  drawing  near  to  the  hills  and 
crossing  a  stream  of  crystal  purity,  overhung  by 
tall  trees.  And  now  they  are  turning  into  a  little 
lane  bordered  by  a  hedge  of  roses,  and  beyond  are 
more  roses,  brilliant  of  color  and  gladdening  the 
air  with  their  perfume.  There  are  still  more  roses 
wreathed  about  the  little  cottage  beyond,  and  be 
neath  the  climbing  vines  is  the  daintiest  flower  of 
them  all,  a  fair  young  girl  with  her  hands  clasped 
before  her  and  tears  in  her  shining  eyes  :  his  dear 
little  daughter,  Hope.  Her  name  should  be  his 
watchword  henceforth. 

As  for  the  children,  their  joy  at  seeing  their 
father  was  quite  damped  by  their  failure  to  see 
Dr.  John's  friend. 

Martin  at  length  blundered  out  his  surprise  and 
disappointment. 

"  But  your  friend,  Dr.  John  ?  the  one  who  has 
gone  to  see  father,  and  sent  us  news  every  week,  — 
I  thought  he  was  to  be  here." 

Dr.  John  looked  so  guilty  that  Martin  was  con 
vinced  that  he  had  plunged  into  new  depths  of 
crime,  and  his  heart  smote  him. 


CHAPTEE  XXX, 

PROGRESS. 

"  MY  friend  ?  Oh,  yes.  He  's  a  queer  sort  of 
chap,  Martin.  Awkward  fellow,  —  rather  keep  out 
of  the  way.  Some  other  time,  perhaps,"  explained 
Dr.  John,  hopelessly  confused. 

A  sudden  conviction  swelled  Hope's  heart.  She 
looked  into  Dr.  John's  telltale  face,  and  her  eyes 
swam  in  tears. 

"Dr.  John,  don't  we  already  know  your  friend? 
Is  n't  he  right  here,  before  us,  now  ?  " 

She  extended  one  little  hand  to  the  Doctor  as  she 
spoke,  but  he  had  turned  away  and  did  not  see  it. 

"  My  friend's  occupation  will  be  gone  now,"  was 
all  he  said  in  reply. 

They  had  all  been  busily  at  work,  preparing  for 
their  father's  coming.  The  boys  had  cut  a  new  door 
into  their  room  and  partitioned  off  half  of  it  for 
Hope,  while  in  the  room  she  had  occupied  they  put 
the  set  of  furniture  that  had  always  been  used  by 
their  parents.  They  had  covered  the  floor  with 
straw  matting  and  had  put  some  coyote  skins  upon 
it ;  there  were  fresh  flowers  on  the  table  and  bureau, 
and  family  photographs  upon  the  wall. 


PKOGBESS.  227 

They  would  Lave  taken  the  invalid  at  once  to  his' 
room,  but  with  a  feeble  movement  of  his  head,  a 
look  of  appeal  in  his  dark  eyes,  he  protested  so 
earnestly  against  going  in-doors,  that  they  placed 
his  chair  on  the  porch.  There  he  sat  until  the  sun 
bowed  low  in  the  west,  and  the  chill  of  a  Decem 
ber  night  came  down. 

"  We  must  have  a  Christmas  this  year,  Hope," 
said  Ned,  a  week  or  two  later,  coming  in  upon  Hope 
as  she  was  giving  the  last  touches  to  her  neat  little 
kitchen,  after  finishing  her  morning's  work. 

"  Ob,  I  mean  to,"  said  Hope,  with  an  important, 
matronly  look.  "  I  made  mince-meat  last  week, 
you  know,  and  that  pumpkin  out  in  the  garden  is 
for  pies." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  so  much  of  the  eatables, 
Hope  ;  I  knew  you  could  be  trusted  to  look  after 
them  and  we  boys  to  do  justice  to  them.  Let  us 
trim  up  the  house  and  give  it  a  holiday  look,  and 
study  up  some  little  surprises  for  father  ;  make  it  a 
sort  of  celebration  of  his  coming  home." 

"  That  will  be  delightful,"  cried  Hope,  her  eyes 
sparkling.  "  You  know  how  generously  he  used  to 
provide  for  us  on  such  days.  We  must  make  him 
understand  that  it  is  our  turn  now." 

The  young  people  kept  their  plans  a  secret  from 
each  other.  On  the  day  before  Christmas  Hope 
was  busy,  up  to  her  elbows  in  flour,  beating  eggs  to 
a  stiff  froth,  cutting  jellies  into  cubes  and  spheres 
and  stars,  rolling  out  sheets  of  flaky  paste,  watching 
fire  and  oven  with  breathless  anxiety. 


228  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Mr.  Austin's  chair  had  been  wheeled  into  the 
kitchen  that  .morning,  and  he  watched  his  young 
daughter's  preparations  with  a  gentle  indulgence 
that  soon  grew  into  a  subdued  interest,  and  then 
into  an  open  solicitude,  rivaling  her  own,  when  the 
fire  flashed  up  too  quickly  and  threatened  to  scorch 
some  of  the  nice  things,  and  dampers  had  to  be 
pulled  out  and  covers  lifted.  He  tasted  the  choice 
tidbits  that  she  brought  to  him,  and  answered  the 
anxious  inquiry  of  her  eyes  with  a  look  of  pleased 
approval.  Altogether  they  had  a  delightful  time 
of  it,  father  and  daughter,  conducting  these  grand 
preparations  together. 

Mr.  Austin  signified  his  wish  to  retire  early  that 
night.  The  long,  wakeful  nights  he  had  spent  in 
the  hospital  were  giving  way  to  sound  and  whole 
some  sleep.  He  was  genuinely  weary  from  the 
passive  part  he  had  taken  in  the  bustle  and  stir  of 
the  day,  and  he  fell  asleep  almost  as  soon  as  the 
boys  got  him  undressed  and  into  his  soft,  comfortable 
bed. 

He  awoke  the  next  morning  with  a  blessed  sense 
that  the  years  had  somehow  fallen  away  and  his 
dead  wife  had  come  back.  In  the  adjoining  room 
a  sweet  voice  was  singing  a  little  Christmas  hymn 
that  she  used  to  sing.  It  took  some  minutes  for 
him  to  collect  his  thoughts  and  to  realize  that  it 
was  only  Hope,  singing  softly  as  she  went  about 
her  work.  How  like  to  her  dead  mother  the  child 
was  growing  every  day. 

But  what  had  happened  to  his  room  ?     It  was 


PROGRESS.  229 

transformed  into  a  veritable  bower,  with  leafy  gar 
lands  and  bunches  of  mistletoe  and  flowers.  High 
up  on  the  wall  there  was  an  inscription  in  living 
green.  The  letters  were  clumsily  fashioned,  but  he 
made  them  out  without  much  difficulty  :  — 


So  that  was  the  meaning  of  Hope's  elaborate 
preparations  the  day  before  !  He  had  not  thought 
it  was  so  late  in  the  year.  The  days  of  the  week 
he  had  always  kept  account  of,  but  he  had  grown 
tired  of  counting  the  months. 

The  boys  came  in,  with  suppressed  joy  in  their 
faces,  to  get  him  ready  for  the  day.  They  washed 
and  dressed  him  and  wheeled  his  chair  up  close  to 
the  bed,  to  help  hi  in  upon  it.  There  came  a  light 
tap  on  the  door. 

There  stood  Hope,  her  face  beaming,  and  on  her 
arm  a  marvelous  dressing-gown  made  of  some  soft, 
heavy  cloth,  a  dark  maroon,  with  silken  facings  of 
brightest  cherry  color,  and  with  tiny  sprays  of 
flowers  embroidered  011  the  points  of  the  collar  and 
on  the  cuffs  and  pocket  lapels.  I  am  not  prepared 
to  say  that  it  could  compare  with  any  tailor-made 
garment,  or  that  it  had  much  of  any  shape  at  all, 
or  that  the  combination  of  colors  would  have  stood 
the  test  of  an  artistic  critic's  scrutiny,  but  there 
was  so  much  love  and  unselfishness  and  patient  in 
dustry  woven  into  it,  that  I  should  like  to  see  the 
critic  who  would  have  had  the  heart  to  find  fault 
with  it. 


230  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Then  came  the  boys'  turn,  and  Ned  brought  out 
a  prettily  carved  reading-rack  that  he  had  made, 
which  slipped  into  a  brass  socket  in  the  arm  of  the 
invalid-chair.  Martin  had  made  a  pretty  tray,  just 
large  enough  to  hold  an  individual  tea-service,  and 
this,  too,  was  arranged  so  that  it  could  be  attached 
to  the  chair  or  taken  away  at  pleasure. 

It  is  wonderful  how  much  can  be  expressed  with 
out  the  use  of  ordinary  speech.  The  father's  face 
and  eyes  spoke  volumes  of  gratitude  and  content. 

It  was  a  disappointment  to  them  all  that  Dr.  John 
did  not  come  to  share  Hope's  bountiful  dinner,  but 
late  in  the  afternoon  Wing  came  over,  bringing  a 
huge  parcel  and  a  note.  The  note  was  addressed  to 
Mr.  Austin,  and  read  :  — 

"  I  send  you  with  this  a  Christmas  remembrance 
for  Hope.  I  am  sure  you  will  permit  her  to  re 
ceive  this  token  from  one  who  has  found  great  com 
fort  in  watching  her  happy,  self-denying  life,  and 
who  once  received  from  her  the  highest  compliment 
ever  paid  him." 

They  removed  the  paper  wrappings  from  the 
parcel  and  found  a  large  pasteboard  box.  Hope 
lifted  the  cover  and  gave  a  cry  of  delight,  for  there 
was  the  realization  of  her  most  ambitious  dream  of 
self-gratification.  A  dark  brown  walking-dress  of 
finest  texture  and  stylish  but  modest  pattern.  A 
pretty  hat  and  walking- jacket  and  two  pairs  of 
gloves  to  match  the  dress.  Beneath  these  was 
another  parcel,  containing  a  pair  of  neat  French- 
kid  boots. 


PEOGBESS.  231 

The  little  maid  was  almost  afraid  to  show  the 
pleasure  she  felt  over  these  things  for  fear  the  others 
might  think  she  had  been  unhappy  without  them, 
but  she  soon  found  that  she  need  have  no  such 
scruples.  The  boys  were  quite  as  delighted  as  she, 
and  would  not  be  satisfied  until  she  had  run  and  put 
on  the  pretty  clothes  and  given  them  all  a  chanca  to 
admire  them. 

They  all  wondered  at  the  last  clause  in  Dr. 
John's  letter.  None  of  them  recollected  Hope's 
quaint  speech  when  they  were  riding  down  to  The 
Brook  the  first  day  they  came  to  the  ranch :  — 
"  You  look  as  if  you  could  be  trusted." 

The  sick  man,  so  long  shut  up  in  a  shadowed 
room  and  between  close  walls,  seemed  to  have  an 
insatiable  desire  to  be  in  the  open  air. 

"  Let  him  have  it.  It  is  the  best  tonic  in  the 
world,"  was  Dr.  John's  decree. 

So  day  after  day  they  drew  him  out  upon  the 
porch,  or  along  the  paths,  grown  hard  and  smooth 
with  three  years'  constant  usage,  leading  over  the 
place.  They  humored  his  whims  as  a  mother 
studies  the  fancies  of  a  delicate  child.  When  chill 
winds  arose  in  the  afternoon,  and  they  started  to 
take  him  back  to  the  house,  they  yielded  to  the  pite 
ous  entreaty  of  his  eyes  and  fastened  up  a  blanket 
to  break  the  force  of  the  wind,  and  muffled  him 
more  warmly,  feeling  richly  repaid  by  his  look  of 
gratitude  and  pleasure. 

On  rainy  days,  when  he  could  not  be  taken  out, 
he  was  fain  to  take  comfort  by  the  open  fire,  but 


232  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

his  eyes  always  turned  longingly  towards  the  win 
dow,  and  all  rejoiced  that  the  stormy  days  were  few 
and  scattering,  and  the  days  of  warmth  and  sun 
shine  many. 

When  summer  came,  the  boys  made  him  a  bed 
of  rushes  under  the  old  walnut  tree  in  the  orchard, 
where  they  were  accustomed  to  pack  their  fruit, 
and  when  fall  came  another  couch  was  made  up  in 
the  vineyard,  with  a  rude  canopy  over  it. 

For  the  better  part  of  two  years  he  lived,  ate  and 
slept  out  of  doors.  Before  a  single  year  had  gone 
by,  what  the  skill  of  man  had  failed  to  accomplish, 
nature  and  God  did  for  him.  By  degrees  the  in 
coherent  sounds  resolved  themselves  into  words 
and  the  words  into  sentences,  too  indistinct  and 
broken  to  be  always  understood  by  strangers,  but 
intelligible  to  those  around  him. 

The  mysterious  affection  which  still  held  the  or 
gans  of  speech  in  a  measure  under  its  spell  did  not 
relax  its  hold  upon  the  muscles  of  his  body.  He 
could  not  stand  upon  his  feet  or  hold  a  sheet  of 
paper  in  his  hand. 

In  after  days  the  lessons  of  this  sad  period  came 
home  to  the  young  people.  It  taught  them  to 
value  the  help  and  sympathy  of  others,  to  appre 
ciate  the  need  of  mutual  dependence,  to  cultivate 
the  sweet  virtues  of  patience  and  unselfishness. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

HOW    TOM    KEPT    HIS    WOKD. 

THE  second  winter  that  Mr.  Austin  spent  at  the 
ranch  was  marked  by  the  coldest  weather  known 
in  California  since  it  came  into  the  possession  of 
the  United  States. 

The  mercury,  which  usually  ranged  from  45°  to 
50°  Fahrenheit  on  the  most  severe  winter  days,  and 
only  on  rare  occasions  touched  32°,  began  a  series 
of  most  scandalous  performances.  First  it  re 
treated  to  a  couple  of  degrees  below  the  freezing 
point,  and  the  frost  played  havoc  with  the  leaves 
of  geraniums  and  a  few  other  tender  plants.  » 

At  this  Californians  made  merry,  for  out  of  their 
wealth  of  bloom  and  fragrance  they  could  for  a 
time  well  afford  to  spare  the  geraniums,  —  little 
prized  on  account  of  their  rank  growth  and  un 
pleasant  odor.  The  heliotrope  they  missed  more, 
but  knew  that  a  few  weeks  would  restore  it.  So 
boys  and  girls  sought  eagerly  for  the  thin  film  of 
ice  that  formed  on  standing  water  in  exposed  situ 
ations,  and  men  and  women  congratulated  each 
other  upon  the  crisp,  exhilarating  air,  and  ac 
counted  for  the  extreme  cold  by  attributing  it  to  the 
snow  that  had  lately  whitened  the  summit  of  the 


234  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Black  Hills,"  as  they  called  the  thickly  wooded 
range  ten  miles  back  from  the  valley. 

But  so  far  the  mercury  was  only  coquetting.  It 
had  serious  business  on  hand,  and  meant  to  com 
pass  it.  Just  as  the  people  were  laughing  over 
the  game  of  hide-and-seek  it  was  playing  around 
the  freezing  point,  and  predicting  that  in  twenty- 
four  hours  there  would  come  a  decided  change  of 
weather,  the  mercury  played  a  shameless  joke. 

It  dropped  to  25°,  seven  degrees  below  the  freez 
ing  point. 

People  who  had  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  gone 
to  sleep  in  perfect  security  against  the  inroads  of 
the  weather  awoke  to  find  exposed  waterpipes  burst 
and  their  premises  flooded,  many  delicate  vegeta 
bles  and  flowers  frozen  stiff,  growing  grain  blighted, 
lime  trees  killed,  and  the  fruit  and  foliage  of  lemon 
and  orange  trees  withered  as  if  by  a  hot  blast. 

Of  course  they  tried  to  make  light  of  it,  and 
jested,  saying  that  a  bit  of  weather  from  beyond 
the  Rockies  had  strayed  west  and  could  not  find  its 
way  back.  The}7"  deplored  the  hundreds  of  lives 
lost  in  the  middle  northwest,  up  Minnesota  and 
Dakota  and  Nebraska  way,  during  the  terrible 
blizzards  that  prevailed  there,  and  congratulated 
themselves  upon  their  superior  position,  saying 
that  it  had  never  happened  before,  that  it  was  nice 
to  have  some  real  "  weather  "  after  all,  and  that  it 
was  n't  half  as  bad  as  Florida  —  presumptuous 
minx  !  —  had  done  a  year  or  so  back  ;  and  that  it 
would  never  happen  again  ;  and  they  were  glad  of 


HOW  TOM  KEPT  HIS   WORD.  235 

it  anyhow,  because  it  gave  them  a  chance  to  com 
pare  their  own  glorious  climate  with  the  East, — 
and  a  host  of  other  very  comforting  and  philosophi 
cal  assertions. 

But  the  fact  remained  that  California  was  most 
painfully  humiliated.  Her  "  glorious  climate  "  was 
in  tatters.  It  took  months  to  recover  from  the 
shock  vegetation  received.  It  took  years  to  re 
cover  from  the  blur  upon  her  reputation. 

At  Home  Ranch,  during  the  prevalence  of  the 
"  blizzard,"  as  the  five  days  of  frosty  weather  were 
called,  the  boys  did  little  for  a  day  or  so,  except  to 
attend  to  their  stock  and  the  daily  chores,  seal  up 
cracks  around  the  doors  and  windows  through 
which  the  wind  whistled,  and  pile  up  wood  in  the 
great  fireplace,  where  the  flames  leaped  and  crackled 
in  defiance  of  the  weather. 

Then  their  boyhood  asserted  itself,  and  since  the 
weather  tried  to  make  merry  with  them,  they  de 
cided  to  make  merry  with  the  weather.  So  they 
faced  the  cool  blasts,  and  took  advantage  of  the 
crust  frozen  over  the  wet  ground  to  draw  up  great 
loads  of  driftwood  from  the  stream.  They  broke 
off  pieces  of  ice  nearly  an  inch  thick  from  the 
sheet  that  covered  the  reservoir  by  the  spring,  ex 
temporized  a  freezer,  and  witn  their  abundant  sup 
ply  of  sweet  cream  made  some  delectable  ice-cream. 
They  even  prepared  a  mimic  toboggan  slide  by 
flooding  a  steep  declivity  near  the  reservoir,  one  of 
the  coldest  nights,  and  did  some  tall  and  lofty 
tumbling  there  with  the  drag  the  next  day. 


236  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

The  cold  period  dissolved  in  a  tempest  of  wind 
and  rain,  which  will  long  be  memorable  on  the 
California  coast,  because  of  the  good  ships  it  sent 
to  the  bottom.  Even  in  San  Francisco  Bay,  ves 
sels  dragged  their  anchors  and  were  tossed  help 
lessly  about,  so  that  damaging  collisions  resulted, 
while  light  craft  were  hopelessly  at  the  mercy  of 
the  winds  and  waves. 

On  the  night  that  this  tempest  was  brewing,  a 
stylishly  dressed  young  fellow  went  down  to  the 
water-front  and  ordered  a  man  to  get  out  a  sail 
boat. 

The  man  openly  protested. 

"  It 's  not  a  fit  night  to  be  out  in,  sir.  There  's 
a  moon  now,  —  but  look  off  there." 

He  pointed  to  the  southwest,  where  a  dark  mass 
of  clouds  was  rising,  driving  before  it  a  line  of 
fleece  white  as  the  ocean's  foam. 

"  Never  mind.  It  does  n't  concern  you  ;  I  'm  the 
one  that 's  going,  not  you."  The  man  obeyed  or 
ders  without  further  protest,  but  there  was  a  hard, 
reckless  look  on  the  young  man's  face  that  he  could 
not  forget,  and  when  he  had  watched  the  frail  boat 
and  its  occupant  out  of  sight,  he  turned  in  for  the 
night  with  an  uneasy  sense  that  he  had  neglected 
his  duty. 

He  awoke  later  to  the  roaring  of  the  wind  and 
heard  the  rain  falling  in  sheets  on  the  roof,  and  re 
membered  the  boat,  and  the  boy  who  had  gone  out 
in  it  alone. 

"  Something 's  up,"  he  said  to  himself.     "  Never 


HOW  TOM  KEPT  HIS   WOED.  237 

saw  him  like  that  before ;  him,  always  so  good- 
natured  and  pleasant-spoken.  Jiminy !  If  he  's 
out  in  this  !  " 

Something  was  wrong,  —  miserably,  hopelessly 
wrong. 

Father  and  son,  after  years  of  wretched  misun 
derstandings,  bad  management  on  the  one  side  and 
willful  defiance  on  the  other,  had  come  to  an  open 
issue.  Stung  by  the  taunts  he  had  received,  the 
young  fellow  had  started  off,  bound  he  cared  not 
whither,  but  resolved  never  to  return  to  the  man 
who  had  disowned  him. 

Tom  Bateman  was  in  the  middle  of  the  bay 
when  the  squall  struck.  The  moment  before  he 
was  reckless,  desperate,  indifferent  as  to  what  be 
came  of  him  ;  but  when  he  saw  the  caps  of  foam 
rising  about  him  and  felt  the  wind  strike  his  small 
craft,  he  strove,  with  the  instinct  of  a  true  sailor, 
to  help  her  to  weather  the  gale. 

The  next  moment  he  saw  that  it  was  useless. 
The  wind  had  chopped  around  and  was  coming 
from  the  northwest,  driving  him  toward  the  Ala- 
meda  shore,  against  the  ebb  of  a  strong  tide. 

He  could  only  cling  to  the  gunwale  and  await 
the  inevitable  result,  a  crash  against  one  of  the 
great  hulks  looming  up  along  the  eastern  shore,  or 
the  capsizal  of  the  boat.  In  either  case  he  would 
have  little  show. 

Death  was  before  him,  and  he  was  not  ready. 

Alas  for  the  wasted  years  that  lay  behind  him  ! 
He  had  always  thought  there  was  plenty  of  time. 


238  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Plenty  of  time  to  enjoy  himself,  to  have  a  "  good 
time,"  to  jest  and  frolic  and  parley  with  life,  leav 
ing  its  serious  duties  for  years  to  come. 

And  now,  the  years  to  come,  —  where  were 
they? 

He  was  going  into  an  eternity  he  dared  not 
face,  an  eternity  where  he  could  think  of  but  one 
who  might  be  pitiful  to  him  and  shield  him  from 
blame  :  the  little  sister  who  died  long  years  before. 

Thinking  of  the  little  sister  reminded  him  of  the 
fair  young  girl  who  was  so  like  her.  It  was  not  a 
pleasant  memory,  the  recollection  of  that  day  when 
he  had  come  upon  her  in  her  country  home,  and 
wounded  her  and  shamed  himself,  in  his  dastardly 
attempt  to  prove  himself  a  man  of  the  world  in  the 
eyes  of  his  low  companions. 

She  had  not  made  a  failure  of  life,  —  neither  she 
nor  the  boys.  His  path  had  been  easy  and  theirs 
hard,  but  they  had  done  the  best  that  came  in  their 
way,  and  he,  —  he  had  gone  straight  down  to  per 
dition,  and  this  was  the  end.  There  was  pity  in 
her  face  that  day,  in  spite  of  her  contempt.  Per 
haps  she  would  be  more  pitiful  if  she  could  see  him 
now. 

Ah  !  it  had  come.  He  was  in  the  water  trying 
to  get  hold  of  the  capsized  boat,  which  thrust  him 
back  and  fled  from  him  as  if  it  too  were  human. 
It  was  only  a  question  of  a  few  moments  when  he 
should  go  to  the  bottom,  but  he  struck  out,  cum 
bered  as  he  was  by  his  heavy  clothing,  clutching, 
as  men  will,  at  the  last  desperate  chance. 


HOW  TOM  KEPT  HIS   WORD.  239 

He  must  be  close  to  the  other  shore.  He  remem 
bered  it,  —  miles  and  miles  of  mud  flats,  more  dan 
gerous  far  than  the  open  bay.  Yet  here  and  there, 
far  apart,  were  little  country  wharves,  reached  by 
deep  estuaries,  where  grain  and  other  rural  pro 
ducts  were  shipped.  If  he  should  happen  upon 
one  of  these,  the  chance  might  become  a  certainty. 

The  water  was  calmer  now,  for  the  tide  was  at 
the  turn,  but  he  had  the  wind  to  battle  with,  now 
shrieking  full  in  his  face,  now  blowing  from  all 
points  of  the  compass  at  once.  But  what  was  this  ? 
Deep,  clear  water,  salt  no  longer,  but  fresh  as  a 
mountain  spring,  and  with  dim,  ghostly  shapes  on 
either  side.  He  clutched  at  something,  exhausted, 
fainting. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A   NEWSPAPER   ITEM. 

THE  next  morning  dawned  clear  and  bright. 

Hope  was  out  early,  attending  to  some  little 
chickens  whose  coops  had  been  flooded  by  the 
rain.  She  had  gathered  the  wettest  of  the  downy 
creatures  into  her  apron,  and  was  returning  to  the 
house  to  put  them  in  a  basket  beside  the  kitchen 
stove,  when  something  strange  and  unearthly 
seemed  to  rise  up  in  her  path. 

She  gave  a  cry  of  terror,  and  then  stood  still 
and  trembling. 

A  drowned  man !  There  could  be  no  doubt  about 
it.  The  pallid  face,  the  sunken  eyes,  the  bare,  wet 
head,  the  dripping  clothes !  And  there  was  a  terri 
bly  familiar  look  about  the  face.  Oh,  why  should 
IT  come  to  her  ? 

But  drowned  people  do  not  walk  and  speak  and 
smile,  —  such  a  ghostly  semblance  of  a  smile  as  it 
was! 

"Don't  run  away  from  me,  Hope.  Don't  be 
afraid.  It 's  a  very  different  way  this  time  —  dif 
ferent  from  the  last." 

"  But,  Tom  —  Tom  !  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  she 
cried,  her  voice  sharp  with  a  fear  that  it  might  not 


A  NEWSPAPER  ITEM.  241 

be  the  living  Tom  after  all,  that  her  very  senses 
might  be  playing  her  false. 

The  man  who  had  tossed  about  on  the  water  all 
night,  a  plaything  between  life  and  death,  earing 
little  what  became  of  himself,  believing  that  there 
was  no  one  else  to  care,  was  deeply  moved  by  the 
sight  of  her  distress. 

"  It  means  a  great  deal  that  I  am  not  able  to  tell 
you  just  now,"  he  said  shakily.  "  It  means  that  old 
life  is  all  over.  It  means  that  if  you  take  me  in, 
you  take  in  an  outcast,  —  one  who  has  his  own  way 
to  make  in  the  world,  and  a  hard  prospect  before 
him.  Oh,  Hope  !  "  he  broke  off,  "  I  've  been  face 
to  face  with  death  all  night.  It 's  going  to  be  dif 
ferent  after  this.  Put  that  other  time  out  of  your 
mind." 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  said  Hope  softly,  the  tears 
coming  into  her  eyes,  she  knew  not  why. 

"But  what  am  I  thinking?"  she  suddenly  ex 
claimed.  "  You  will  die  if  you  stand  here  in  your 
wet  clothes.  Come  into  the  house.  Go  into  the 
boys'  room  and  get  some  of  their  clothes.  Take 
towels  and  rub  yourself  dry  before  the  fire  in  the 
front  room.  Be  very  quiet.  Father  is  sleeping 
yet.  And  —  Tom  !  Be  careful  what  you  say  before 
him.  We  never  excite  him  in  any  way.  We  will 
tell  him  you  have  come  to  pay  us  a  visit,  and  pass 
it  off  that  way." 

"  But  the  boys  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Oh,  the  boys  !  You  know  them.  It  will  be  all 
right  with  the  boys." 


242  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

So  it  came  that  Tom  Bateman  became  one  of  the 
household  at  Home  Eanch.  The  boys  received  him 
with  little  question.  They  were  satisfied  to  know 
that  he  had  had  a  disagreement  with  his  father, 
and  had  left  home  for  a  time.  They  wondered  a 
little  over  the  episode  of  the  sailboat,  but  attrib 
uted  the  reckless  voyage  to  a  foolish  freak  rather 
than  any  more  serious  impulse.  They  did  not 
know  but  what  he  was  in  regular  correspondence 
with  his  family.  It  was  enough  for  them  that  al 
though  more  sober  and  thoughtful  than  they  had 
ever  known  him,  he  was  the  same  good-hearted  fel 
low,  the  same  pleasant  companion  as  of  old. 

With  Hope  he  talked  more  freely.  She  alone 
understood  that  the  scene  before  father  and  son, 
the  night  he  left  home,  had  been  the  culmination 
of  years  of  indifference  on  the  father's  part,  years 
of  undirected  license  for  the  son,  furthered  by  the 
thoughtlessness  of  a  society-loving  woman. 

"  I  give  you  my  word,  Hope,  I  had  done  nothing 
wrong  or  shameful.  I  had  only  idled  away  the 
time  and  thrown  money  about,  like  the  other  young 
fellows  I  knew,  —  sons  of  my  father's  friends,  asso 
ciates  of  his  own  pick  and  choosing.  He  never 
encouraged  me  to  do  or  be  anything  else.  Yet 
he  hauled  me  over  the  coals  for  it.  '  You  're  going 
to  the  dogs,'  my  father  said.  '  I  'm  going  exactly 
where  you  've  ticketed  me,'  I  said.  Then  he  flew 
into  a  terrible  rage,  and  I  would  n't  stand  his 
abuse  and  told  him  so.  He  ordered  me  to  leave 
the  house  and  never  presume  to  enter  it  again,  and 


A  NEWSPAPER  ITEM.  243 

I  told  him  I  'd  take  him  at  his  word.  My  mother 
stood  by  and  heard  it.  She  never  said  a  word. 
They  did  n't  care,  either  of  them.  They  were  glad 
to  get  rid  of  me." 

"  Oh,  they  did  care.  They  do  care,"  said  Hope 
earnestly  when  she  heard  this  statement.  "  They 
are  troubling  about  you  now.  You  must  write  to 
them,  or  go  back." 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Hope.  It  's  gone  too  far  to  be 
mended.  If  you  choose  to  turn  me  out  here,  it's 
all  right"  — 

"You  know  that  I  don't  mean  that,  Tom,  but  it 
is  n't  right  to  feel  so.  And  it  is  n't  true.  Mothers 
do  care,  even  if  they  don't  show  it.  And  your 
father,  —  perhaps  you  spent  too  much.  Maybe  he 
could  n't  afford  the  money,  Tom." 

"  He !  He  's  rolling  in  money.  A  million  and 
to  spare.  Everybody  knows  it,"  and  Tom  laughed 
bitterly.  "  Never  mind.  I  '11  show  him  that  I  'm 
not  dependent  on  him.  I  can  make  my  way  in  the 
world,  even  if  I  have  to  do  it  by  hoeing  peas  or 
following  the  plow.  I  'm  going  to  strike  Ned  for 
wages  next  week." 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Tom  Bateman  had 
settled  down  to  steady  work.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  his  surplus  energies  were  finding  a  whole 
some  and  legitimate  channel,  and  the  discipline  was 
good  for  him. 

The  boys  looked  upon  his  action  as  a  mere  whim, 
and  wondered  how  soon  it  would  give  out,  and  were 
quite  ready  to  jest  with  Tom  over  his  experience  in 


244  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

ranching,  when  the  notion  should  have  worn  itself 
out.  But  when  week  after  week  passed  by  and  his 
term  of  service  extended  into  months,  they  began 
to  comprehend  that  what  they  had  mistaken  for  a 
boy's  rash  impulse  was  a  man's  serious  purpose. 

"  It 's  the  only  life  in  the  world  worth  living," 
he  said  to  Hope  one  day.  "  I  don't  mean  that  it 
is  absolutely  necessary  for  a  man's  welfare  that  he 
should  put  forth  strong  physical  effort  all  his  life, 
though  it  is  a  good  tonic  ;  but  this  quiet  home  life, 
the  reliance  upon  each  other,  the  interest  in  growing 
things,  —  it  somehow  binds  a  family  together.  If 
my  father  had  been  a  farmer  it  all  would  have  been 
different." 

It  was  noticeable  that  he  always  referred  to  his 
family  in  the  past  tense,  as  if  they  belonged  to  a 
life  that  was  finished ;  but  Hope  never  lost  an  op 
portunity  to  help  him  to  see  matters  in  their  true 
light,  as  she  understood  them,  and  to  remind  him 
of  his  duty.  She  was  frank,  even  to  cruelty,  in  her 
arraignment.  She  censured  him  unsparingly.  She 
ascribed  sentiments  to  the  absent  parents  that  only 
a  tender-hearted  girl's  fancy  could  conceive. 

At  last  she  won  from  him  a  reluctant  promise 
that  he  would  go  back, 

"  But  I  won't  go  empty-handed.  I  am  going  to 
take  back  some  money  that  I  have  earned  by  the 
sweat  of  my  brow,"  said  Tom. 

It  happened  that  about  this  time  Mr.  Abbott 
was  in  need  of  a  book-keeper  and  time-keeper  in  his 
nursery,  a  happy  combination  of  indoor  and  outdoor 


A  NEWSPAPER  ITEM.  245 

service  quite  to  Tom's  taste,  and  he  decided  to 
apply  for  the  place. 

He  put  on  the  suit  of  clothes  he  had  worn  when 
he  came  to  the  ranch,  which  had  been  cleaned  and 
pressed  by  Hope's  skillful  hands,  and  went  out  to 
exchange  a  few  words  with  the  boys  about  some 
errands  he  was  to  do  for  them  in  the  village,  then 
started  down  the  road. 

As  he  reached  the  bridge  he  heard  a  faint  cry, 
and  turned  to  see  Hope  following  him,  with  a  news 
paper  in  her  hand,  and  a  face  full  of  distress. 

"  Oh,  Tom  !  They  did  care,"  she  said,  extending 
the  paper  to  him,  with  a  look  of  compassion. 

The  paragraph  to  which  she  pointed  read  as  fol 
lows  :  — 

Matthew  Bateman,  a  well  known  capitalist,  died  of 
apoplexy  yesterday  afternoon  at  three  o'  clock,  in  his 

office  in  Block.  His  death  was  undoubtedly  the 

direct  result  of  business  troubles  which  have  been  harass 
ing  him  for  the  last  year.  Although  he  was  a  large 
real-estate  owner,  he  had  become  entangled  in  some  un 
fortunate  speculations,  and  it  is  rumored  that  he  died 
insolvent. 

Mr.  Bateman's  family  consisted  of  a  wife  and  one 
son.  Several  months  ago  the  latter  disappeared,  but  as  it 
was  believed  he  had  taken  passage  upon  some  ship  bound 
for  a  foreign  port,  the  matter  was  not  made  public. 
Subsequently,  however,  it  was  learned  that  he  went  out 
in  a  sailboat  on  the  night  of  the  memorable of  Jan 
uary,  and  the  recent  discovery  of  the  remnants  of  the 
boat  thrown  upon  the  east  shore  of  the  bay  leaves  no  doubt 
as  to  the  young  man's  untimely  fate.  This  circumstance 


246  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

adds  to  the  melancholy  situation  of  the  unfortunate  wife 
and  mother,  who  has  never  left  her  bed  since  the  day  of 
her  son's  disappearance. 

"  I  must  take  the  next  train.  I  must  go  to  the 
city  at  once,"  said  Tom  huskily. 

Then  he  turned  and  put  his  arms  around  Hope, 
and  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed  her  as  he  might 
have  kissed  his  own  little  sister,  had  she  been 
spared  to  him. 

"  Good-by,  dear,"  he  said.  "  Whatever  I  am  — 
if  I  ever  amount  to  anything  —  I  owe  it  all  to 
you." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE   PRODIGAL    SON. 

IN  the  great  house  on  California  Street  in  San 
Francisco,  all  was  changed.  Passers-by  looked  at 
its  neglected  garden,  its  closed  blinds  and  doors, 
and  the  heavy  folds  of  crape  hanging  from  the 
front  door-knob,  recalling  the  days  when  a  pom 
pous  man  of  affairs  came  and  went  with  the  regu 
larity  of  clockwork ;  when  the  street  before  it  was 
alive  with  carriages  waiting  upon  afternoon  recep 
tions  and  evening  parties ;  when  a  richly  dressed 
woman  passed  up  and  down  the  steps  with  gracious 
dignity,  and  a  merry  boy  ran  in  and  out. 

In  a  darkened  room  above,  a  woman,  white  as 
the  soft  wraps  folded  about  her,  was  lying  on  her 
bed.  Her  hair,  sprinkled  with  gray,  was  drawn 
smoothly  back  from  her  sharpened  temples,  and  her 
thin  hands,  folded  listlessly  together,  were  destitute 
of  ring  or  ornament. 

"  It  makes  my  heart  ache  just  to  look  at  her  !  " 
sighed  a  maid,  Annette,  to  her  fellow-servitor, 
James,  in  the  hallway. 

"  She  's  a  shadder  !  "  said  James  sententiously. 

"  And  to  think  of  the  pretty  bloom  she  always 
had  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  hair  that  was  a  pleasure 


248  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

to  '  do  up,'  it  was  so  soft,  and  shiny,  and  wavy ; 
and  her  silks,  and  laces,  and  velvets,  and  diamonds, 
and  sealskins,  all  packed  away  under  lock  and  key. 
Oh,  the  trouble  that 's  come  on  this  house!  "  cried 
Annette,  appealing  to  the  stolid  James  for  sympa 
thy.  "  The  master  dead  in  the  room  below  ;  mas 
ter  Tom  gone,  and  she  a-following  them  as  fast  as 
ever  she  can.  It's  enough  to  wring  a  body's 
heart." 

"All  folks  has  their  thrubbles,  but  it  do  seem 
the  Lord  is  after  sinding  more  than  its  share  an 
this  house,"  remarked  James  dryly. 

A  feeble  voice  was  faintly  calling  Annette's 
name.  She  hastened  to  obey  the  summons,  and 
found  Mrs.  Bateman  propped  up  on  one  arm,  a 
feverish  flush  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  bright 
with  anxious  expectation.  She  was  trying  to 
look  through  a  doorway  leading  into  the  adjoining 
room. 

"  Is  everything  ready,  Annette  ?  Is  the  table 
set  in  there  as  usual  ?  You  know  he  may  come  to 
night." 

"  Everything,  Mrs.  Bateman." 

"  You  remembered  the  anchovies  and  the  sand 
wiches,  and  the  cup  of  hot  coffee  over  the  gas  ?  " 

"Yes,  madame.  Please  lie  down.  Everything 
will  be  all  right  if  he  comes." 

Tears  were  trickling  down  the  girl's  cheeks  as 
she  gently  forced  the  invalid  down,  re-arranging 
her  pillows  with  a  pat  and  stroke.  In  the  hall 
outside  she  burst  out  crying,  sobbing  so  violently, 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  249 

albeit  under  breath,  that  the  sight  of  her  sorrow 
affected  even  the  callous  James. 

"  Oh,  come,  Miss  Annette.  It  can't  help  mat 
ters,  carrying  on  so.  What 's  up,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  It 's  only  the  same  old  thing,  James.  The  ta 
ble  all  set  out  for  master  Tom  in  her  little  parlor, 
where  she  used  to  leave  a  nice  supper  fixed  up  for 
him  when  he  stayed  out  late  and  missed  his  dinner. 
Never  the  least  difference,  though  I  was  by  and 
heard  when  the  lawyer  and  Mr.  Batenian  broke  it 
to  her  last  week,  about  the  boat  being  cast  ashore 
and  him  at  the  bottom  of  the  bay.  I  misdoubt  me 
she  's  losing  her  mind,  through  all  this  misery." 

"  Annette,"  said  James  slowly  and  with  deliber 
ation,  "  sure  you  '11  be  knowin'  the  owld  proverb 
about  the  bad  shillin'  ?  " 

"  The  '  bad  shilling  ' !  "  echoed  Annette,  wiping 
her  eyes  with  her  apron,  and  staring  at  him  in  her 
perplexity.  "  And  what  has  the  bad  shilling  to  do 
with  my  mistress  and  her  dead  ?  " 

"  It 's  me,  Annette,  that  knows  the  young  master 
an'  his  thricks  the  bist  av  all,"  continued  James 
sagely.  "  It 's  me  that 's  attinded  an  him  an'  been 
throdden  under  fut  by  him,  as  ye  might  say,  fer 
more  years  than  ye  've  told,  me  girl.  Was  n't  it 
him  that  throwed  his  t'y  locomotive  at  me  head,  — 
in  a  fine  passion  he  was,  though  still  in  skirts,  —  an' 
give  me  this  scar  here  be  the  same  token  ?  " 

James  pointed  with  something  like  pride  to  the 
indistinct  white  line  marking  an  old  cut  on  his 
forehead. 


250  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  An  whin  lie  got  oulder,"  he  continued,  "  what 
wid  his  bull-pups  an'  game  fowls  an'  evadin'  the 
law  concernin'  thim ;  an'  his  white  rats  an'  parrots 
an'  machinery  an'  trash  an'  divilment  widout  end  — 
oh,  it 's  a  rare  dance  he  's  led  me  all  alang.  Shud 
I  live  to  the  age  av  Methuselah  I  '11  niver  fergit 
the  mornin'  I  found  the  gopher  snakes  kiled  up  in 
me  boots,  to  thry  me  whether  I  'd  been  takin'  a  drap 
too  much  on  goin'  to  bed  the  night  afore.  An'  the 
illictric  shock  he  give  me  alang  av  his  new  batthery 
only  last  winter  wud  have  killed  a  horrse,  —  thim 
wuz  the  docthor's  own  wurruds  whin  the  rascal  got 
him  to  bring  me  to  agin." 

"  I  did  n't  think  you  'd  lay  up  such  things,  James, 
and  be  counting  them  at  this  time,"  said  Annette 
reproachfully.  "  And  he  always  so  free-handed  and 
kind-hearted ;  so  ready  and  anxious  to  make  it  up 
when  he  did  anybody  a  harm." 

"  All  the  silver  he  iver  flung  at  me  cud  n't  put 
from  me  mind  the  slimy  touch  av  thim  snakes,  ner 
restore  me  standin'  in  the  eyes  av  the  widdy  Mc- 
Kinstry,  —  her  that  has  the  f oine  account  down  at 
the  Hibernia,  —  since  he  jerked  off  me  wig  wid  a 
fishhook  the  day  I  wuz  settin'  beside  her  in  her  cozy 
garden,"  replied  James  with  severity.  "  No,  no, 
it 's  me  that  knows  the  b'y  better  than  none  other. 
But  as  for  countin'  his  sins,  my  dear,  there  's  not 
a  day  ner  hour  but  what  I  go  over  thim,  an'  wid  as 
good  a  heart  as  if  I  'd  be  a-tellin'  the  virtues  av 
the  saints." 

"  I  'd  like  to  know  what  your  queer  talk  means," 
said  Annette. 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  251 

"  It  manes  that  there  's  somethin'  onnatural  an' 
onrale  in  the  dyin'  out  av  masther  Tom  an'  his  divil- 
ment.  It  manes  that  I  'm  av  the  same  mind  wid 
the  misthriss.  It  wud  n't  surprise  me  any  moment 
shud  masther  Tom  come  walkin'  in  an'  hit  me  an 
the  back,  till  me  breath  wuz  knocked  out  av  me. 
Ye  know  the  sayin'  as  to  the  kind  av  payple  that  '11 
niver  be  drowned  ?  " 

"  Out  upon  you  and  your  sayings  !  "  cried  little 
Annette,  forgetful  for  the  moment  of  the  time  and 
hour.  "  Oh,  you  wicked,  hard-hearted  man  !  If 
ever  a  ghost  came  back  to  haunt  any  one,  mas 
ter  Tom's  ghost  ought  to  come  after  you  this  min 
ute." 

"  There  's  some  one  openin'  the  front  door," 
said  James.  "  I  'd  betther  be  seem'  who  it  may 
be." 

He  started  down  the  stairs,  but  as  he  reached 
the  first  landing  he  gave  a  startled  exclamation, 
echoed  by  Annette  a  moment  later.  For  slowly 
mounting  the  steps  there  came  Tom  Bateman  ; 
silent  and  grave,  stepping  lightly  and  carefully,  the 
old  joyous  bound  forgotten,  the  light-hearted,  boy 
ish  look  forever  gone  from  his  face.  Passing 
them  by,  unheeding,  he  went  straight  to  the  quiet 
chamber  where  his  mother  was  lying. 

"  Mother  !     Poor  little  mother  !  " 

"  Oh,  Tom  !  " 

There  was  never  any  need  of  explanation  be 
tween  these  two.  From  this  sacred  hour  in  which 
they  mingled  their  tears  over  the  dead  father  and 


252  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

husband  lying  below,  —  the  man  so  little  understood 
by  the  one,  so  thoughtlessly  neglected  by  the  other, 
—  trivial  misunderstandings  were  swept  away.  In 
the  new  light  that  had  come  upon  him  the  son  re 
called  unnumbered  deeds  of  tender  remembrance 
and  forethought  received  at  the  hands  of  both  par 
ents  in  bygone  days. 

"  But,  Tom,  you  have  come  into  a  heritage  of 
care,"  said  the  mother  at  length.  "  The  estate  is 
badly  involved.  Your  father  died  a  poor  man. 
We  have  nothing,  nothing  at  all.  This  bed  I  lie 
upon  may  be  taken  away  to-morrow.  For  me  it 
does  not  matter  ;  it  is  not  probable  that  I  shall  live 
long  ;  but  you,  poor  boy !  " 

"  Mother,  you  shall  get  well !  "  said  the  young 
man,  some  of  his  old  spirit  returning.  "As  for 
me,  since  I  went  away  I  liave  found  a  richer  in 
heritance  than  father  could  have  left  me,  if  his 
bank  account  had  been  increased  a  hundred-fold." 

"  Found  an  inheritance !  A  rich  inheritance  ? 
I  don't  understand,  Tom." 

He  held  out  his  hands,  browned  and  calloused 
with  labor.  He  bared  his  right  arm,  where  the 
muscle  stood  out  like  a  cable.  He  stood  up,  tall 
and  strong  and  resolute  before  her. 

"  I  have  found  out  myself,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

HOPE'S   EXPERIMENT. 

IN  the  early  days  of  her  rose-growing,  Hope  had 
tried  a  little  experiment  in  rose  culture. 

One  day  she  plucked  two  wild  roses,  and  carrying 
them  to  the  darkest  of  her  red  roses  in  the  rose 
garden,  held  each  of  them  over  an  open  blossom 
and  tapped  them  gently,  stirring  the  stamens  with 
a  blade  of  wild  grass,  so  that  the  pollen  fell  in  a 
fine  golden  shower.  Then  she  dusted  the  same 
roses,  a  second  time,  with  pollen  from  the  pink 
climbing  roses  by  the  house,  and  when  she  had 
finished  she  marked  the  roses  on  the  bush  with  bits 
of  thread  of  different  colors. 

Three  months  later,  when  the  vessels  of  the  latter 
were  a  glowing  vermilion,  she  gathered  them  and 
planted  their  contents  in  a  corner  of  the  boys'  cold 
frame. 

At  last,  to  her  joy,  first  one  tiny  red  leaf  and 
then  another  pushed  their  way  through  the  ground, 
and  in  a  short  time  a  row  of  trim  little  plants  re 
warded  her  patience. 

It  seemed  as  if  these  plants  would  never  bloom. 
Again  and  again  Hope  searched  them  over  to  find 
the  promise  of  a  bud,  but  for  a  long  time  in  vain. 


254  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  You  lazy  vagrants  !  "  she  exclaimed,  one  morn 
ing.  "  You  worthless,  indolent  paupers  !  I  've  the 
greatest  mind  in  the  world  to  dig  you  up,  root  and 
branch,  and  burn  you." 

"  What 's  that,  my  girl  ?  "  cried  a  pleasant  voice, 
and  Hope  looked  up  to  find  Dr.  John  watching 
her. 

"  Some  lazy  roses,  Dr.  John,"  she  answered,  a 
little  shamefacedly.  "  See  how  large  and  hearty 
they  are,  —  yet  never  a  bud  have  they  shown  yet, 
and  I'm  particularly  interested  in  them,  doctor. 
I  wouldn't  care  so  much  if  they'd  do  something; 
no,  not  if  they  bore  roses  as  black  as  a  coal !  " 

After  this  Dr.  John  kept  an  eye  to  that  especial 
row  of  roses,  however.  At  length  Hope's  wish  was 
gratified,  but  one  plant  after  another  developed 
common  pink  roses,  identical  with  the  pink  climber 
beside  the  house. 

There  was  one  of  the  seedlings,  the  largest  and 
most  vigorous  of  all,  which  obstinately  refused  to 
blossom.  Over  this  plant,  unknown  to  each  other, 
Hope  and  the  doctor  kept  a  vigilant  watch. 

Winter  passed,  and  spring  arrived.  Early  in 
March  a  small  green  bud  appeared  on  this  bush, 
which  grew  larger  and  larger,  day  by  day.  It  was 
really  a  very  absurd  little  bud,  and  so  were  the  mul 
titude  of  others  which  soon  appeared  to  keep  it  com 
pany.  They  were  fat  and  clumsy,  and  wrapped 
in  homely  coats  of  the  darkest  green,  which  kept 
jealous  guard  over  their  contents,  letting  not  the 
tiniest  rift  disclose  the  close-folded  petals  within. 


HOPE'S  EXPERIMENT.  255 

During*  the  fifth  spring  they  spent  at  Home  Eaneh, 
it  happened  that  early  one  March  morning,  while  the 
hills  still  cast  their  grateful  shadow  over  the  place, 
Hope,  running  down  from  the  house  to  wage  war 
upon  some  voracious  slugs  before  washing  the 
breakfast  dishes,  met  the  doctor  coming  up  from 
below.  Both  of  them  stopped,  amazed,  and  viewed 
the  rosebush  with  awed  and  wondering  eyes. 

For  lo !  A  miracle  had  been  wrought  in  the 
night,  and  poised  upon  the  topmost  branch  was  a 
superb  and  beauteous  bloom. 

Hope's  scornful  challenge  to  the  bush  to  produce 
a  "  black  rose  "  had  been  answered  in  a  startling 
manner,  for  there  before  her  was  certainly  the 
blackest  rose  ever  seen.  It  was  large  and  glob 
ular  in  form,  and  each  curved  petal  about  the  outer 
margin  was  edged  with  vivid  carmine,  deepening  to 
ruby  and  deepest  maroon,  while  the  heart  of  the 
flower  was  a  velvety  black,  which  seemed  neverthe 
less  aglow  with  deep  flame  tints. 

All  the  air  around  seemed  to  pulsate  with  its 
rich  perfume. 

"Oh,  I  never  imagined  anything  could  be  so 
beautiful !  "  exclaimed  Hope,  with  one  deep-drawn 
breath. 

44  It  is  matchless !  "  declared  the  doctor,  scarcely 
less  excited  than  she.  "But  where  did  you  get  it, 
Hope  ?  Out  with  your  secret !  " 

"I  bred  it  myself,"  answered  the  young  girl 
proudly.  "  I  did  n't  tell  anybody  what  I  was  doing 
for  fear  they  'd  laugh  at  me,  and  all  the  others 
turned  out  so  commonplace,"  explained  Hope. 


256  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Laugh  at  you  !  "  repeated  Dr.  John  with  feeling. 
"  My  little  girl,  I  believed  you  have  achieved  a 
very  rare  distinction :  one  of  which  many  foreign 
personages  of  rank  would  feel  proud,  and  which 
would  be  regarded  as  a  very  important  exploit  b}^ 
people  who  make  a  business  of  breeding  flowers. 
But  what  are  you  doing  ?  Why,  Hope,  how  could 
you?" 

For  the  young  girl  had  raised  her  scissors,  and 
with  one  quick  movement  the  severed  flower  lay  in 
her  outstretched  hand. 

"  Father  must  see  it  while  it  is  fresh.  You 
know  the  ground  is  wet  and  he  cannot  very  well 
come  to  it.  There  are  plenty  of  buds  left  on  the 
bush." 

This  little  act  of  daughterly  devotion  touched  the 
doctor.  That  was  always  the  way  at  Plome  Ranch. 
The  best  of  everything  was  carried  to  father,  just 
as  all  the  little  worries  and  discouragements  were 
scrupulously  kept  from  him. 

The  invalid  was  at  his  accustomed  post,  in  the 
great  easy-chair  out  in  front,  where  it  was  always 
wheeled  on  fair  days,  when  he  did  not  go  to  or 
chard  or  vineyard.  His  eyes  brightened  with 
pleasure  as  Hope  laid  the  beautiful  rose  in  his  right 
hand,  after  first  lifting  it  to  his  face  that  he  might 
inhale  the  perfume. 

Dr.  John  told  him  the  story  of  Hope's  experi 
ment,  and  Mr.  Austin  smiled  proudly  on  his  young 
daughter. 

"  You   must  name  it,  little   woman,"    said  the 


HOPE'S  EXPERIMENT.  257 

doctor.  "Here  is  a  chance  to  make  your  name 
immortal.  Think  of  sending  your  name  down 
through  the  ages  as  the  sponsor  of  such  a  flower !" 

To  his  surprise  Hope  shook  her  head,  then  bowed 
it  until  it  rested  on  her  father's  shoulder,  while  one 
arm  passed  around  his  neck. 

"  If  I  might  —  I  would  like  to  give  it  —  my 
mother's  name,"  she  replied  softly. 

Mr.  Austin's  eye  moistened.  He  spoke  for  the 
first  time  in  many  days  in  Dr.  John's  presence, 
and  although  his  voice  was  husky,  his  utterance 
was  clearer  than  they  had  known  it  to  be  since  his 
attack. 

"  The  —  Agnes  —  Clifford,"  he  said  brokenly. 

So  the  rose  was  christened,  and  the  little  family 
rejoiced  in  its  loveliness,  while  the  doctor  joined 
them,  little  guessing  the  important  part  it  was  to 
play  in  the  working  out  of  his  own  destiny. 


CHAPTEE  XXXV. 

HOPE'S     BLACK    ROSE    AND    WHAT    CAME    OF    IT. 

"  HOPE,"  said  Dr.  John  one  day  in  July,  "  have 
you  ever  done  anything  about  that  wonderful  black 
rose  of  yours,  the  Agnes  Clifford  ?  " 

"  I  took  a  hundred  slips  from  it  in  the  spring,  and 
the  most  of  them  are  nicely  rooted.  This  fall  I 
shall  take  some  more.  I  thought  —  its  being  so 
different  from  any  that  other  people  have  here  — 
there  might  be  a  sale  for  plants,  and  I  should  like 
to  make  something  directly  out  of  the  roses,  to 
make  up  for — that  time,  you  know.  I  haven't 
let  it  bloom  much,  but  it  is  the  hardest  thing  to 
stop  it.  I  never  saw  such  a  persistent  bloomer.  It 
does  seem  as  if  I  am  pinching  off  buds  all  the 
time." 

"  A  very  valuable  quality,"  remarked  Dr.  John 
seriously.  "  All  the  dark  red  roses  I  can  find  any 
record  of  are  among  the  hybrid  perpetuals,  bloom 
ing  at  the  most  but  twice  a  year.  Even  a  bright 
red  is  a  rare  color  among  the  ever-bloomers.  If 
this  blooms  as  late  as  it  does  early,  it  will  certainly 
take  a  front  rank  among  roses  when  it  becomes 
known.  But  to  have  it  properly  introduced,  you 
ought  to  put  it  in  the  hands  of  some  leading  flo 
rist." 


HOPE'S  BLACK  EOSE.  259 

"I  might  send  it  to  the  florists  I  ordered  the 
most  flowers  from.  I  think  they  are  the  leading 
rose-growers.  But  I  should  n't  know  how  to  go 
about  it,"  confessed  Hope,  frankly. 

"  Let  me  manage  the  correspondence  for  you," 
proposed  the  doctor,  taking  out  his  note-book  and 
pencil.  "  I  '11  write  to  them  to-night.  Now  give 
me  the  name  and  address  of  the  firm." 

"  It  is  n't  a  firm.  It  is  just  one  man,"  returned 
Hope.  "It  is  Robert  L.  Marshall  of  Philadel 
phia." 

"  Robert  L.  Marshall  !  " 

Dr.  John's  face  blanched.  Martin,  who  was 
near,  saw  his  hand  shake.  The  doctor  made  no 
pretense  of  writing  down  the  address. 

"  Robert  L.  Marshall.  And  of  Philadelphia? 
are  you  sure  ?  "  he  asked  of  Hope,  and  to  Martin 
there  was  a  note  of  shrinking  cowardice  in  the 
voice  that  made  the  boy  recoil. 

What  was  there  in  Dr.  John's  past  that  dragged 
its  black  shadow  over  his  life,  and  made  him  terri 
fied  at  the  mere  sound  of  a  name  ?  Oh,  if  the  doc 
tor  would  only  have  the  courage  —  the  manliness 
—  to  face  it !  Martin  watched  him  with  a  sicken 
ing  sense  of  shame  at  his  weakness  and  fear. 

"  Robert  L.  Marshall,  I  am  sure,"  replied  Hope. 
"  But  I  can  write  myself,  Dr.  John,"  she  added 
quickly.  "  It  is  selfish  for  me  to  tax  you  when  you 
have  so  much  to  do." 

Hope,  too,  had  noticed  the  doctor's  agitation, 
but  innocently  ascribed  it  to  a  simple  cause.  She 
thought  he  was  tired  and  nervous. 


260  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Oh  no,  I  will  write,  as  I  proposed,"  replied 
Dr.  John,  who  was  himself  again.  "  But  it  had 
better  go  in  your  name.  I  will  make  a  rude 
draught  of  what  I  think  ought  to  be  said,  and  you 
can  copy  it  out  in  your  own  hand." 

The  next  day  Dr.  John  handed  Hope  the  prom 
ised  letter,  repeating,  in  a  very  emphatic  way,  his 
desire  that  she  should  copy  it  out  in  her  own  hand. 

She  sat  down  at  once  and  made  a  copy  of  the 
letter ;  but  when  she  had  finished  her  copy  she 
compared  it  with  Dr.  John's,  and  smiled  at  the 
contrast.  He  had  called  his  a  "  rough  draught," 
yet  how  finished  and  scholarly  it  looked  beside  her 
own.  What  a  beautiful,  distinctive  hand  Dr.  John 
wrote,  so  different  from  any  other  she  had  ever 
seen !  What  peculiar  twists  and  turns  he  gave  to 
certain  letters,  yet  how  symmetrical  the  page 
looked  ! 

With  a  willful  little  nod  of  her  head,  she  folded 
up  Dr.  John's  letter,  enclosed  it  in  an  envelope, 
sealed  and  directed  it,  and  gave  it  to  Martin  to 
mail. 

Days  of  anxiety,  alternated  with  pleased  antici 
pation,  passed  by.  One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six  ! 
The  letter  must  have  reached  its  destination. 
Then  she  counted  the  days  again  :  one,  two,  three, 
four,  five,  six,  seven !  On  the  thirteenth  day  after 
the  letter  was  dispatched,  she  appealed  to  Dr. 
John. 

"  Oh,  Dr.  John,  do  you  think  he  will  trust  the 
description,  or  will  I  have  to  send  a  rose  or  plant 


HOPE'S  BLACK  EOSE.  261 

to  him?"  she  cried.  "And  if  he  should  make  it 
one  of  the  novelties  of  the  season,  and  let  me  sup 
ply  the  orders,  would  n't  it  be  grand  ?  But,  doc 
tor  !  Who  are  those  gentlemen  coming  up  the 
path  ?  See  !  the  taller  one  looks  like  a  soldier,  but 
he  walks  with  a  cane  and  limps.  I  never  saw  them 
before." 

But  Dr.  John,  after  one  hasty  look  at  the  new 
comers,  vanished  without  a  word,  betaking  himself 
in  the  direction  of  the  house,  and  Hope  was  left 
alone,  to  face  them. 

They  were  coming  along  the  garden  path  that 
the  doctor  had  so  often  trod,  looking  at  the  roses 
on  either  side  as  they  advanced.  As  they  reached 
the  place  where  the  young  girl  stood,  and  beheld  the 
bush  beside  which  she  loitered,  still  proudly  up 
holding  its  wealth  of  bloom,  the  elder  gentleman 
stopped,  electrified  by  the  sight,  while  the  younger 
looked  with  even  more  interest  at  the  pure-faced 
girl. 

"  Is  this  the  rose  ?  "  asked  the  elder  man. 

"  Sir,  you  are  "  —  began  the  blushing  girl  with 
dignity. 

"Robert  L.  Marshall,  of  Philadelphia.  And 
this  is  my  young  nephew,  Lieutenant  Hobart  Mar 
shall,  fresh  from  West  Point.  You  see  I  am  here 
to  answer  your  letter  in  person.  You  are  Miss 
Hope  Austin,  I  suppose  ?  "  and  he  touched  his  hat, 
with  a  stiff,  military  salute. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Hope,  simply. 

"  I  happen  to  be  one  of  the  veterans  who  are 


262  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

gathering  here  this  month,"  explained  Mr.  Mar 
shall,  "  so  we  must  hold  the  Grand  Army  responsi 
ble  for  my  promptness ;  though  I  am  not  sure  but 
the  rose  would  justify  three  thousand  miles  of 
travel.  It  is  magnificent." 

He  did  not  tell  the  girl  that  he  had  quite  made 
up  his  mind  to  forego  the  Grand  Army  Keunion 
that  year,  but  had  packed  up  his  luggage  within 
a  couple  of  hours  from  the  time  her  letter  had 
arrived,  and  traveled  night  and  day  to  reach  the 
Western  Coast. 

He  merely  drew  one  of  the  roses  toward  him, 
and  studied  it  with  the  eye  of  a  connoisseur. 

"And  is  it  really  new?"  asked  the  trembling 
girl. 

"  It  is  entirely  new,  to  the  best  of  my  judgment," 
replied  the  veteran. 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Hope,  with  a  happy  smile. 
"  Will  you  walk  up  to  the  house,  Mr.  Marshall  ? 
My  father  is  an  invalid,  but  he  will  be  glad  to  see 
you." 

They  passed  on  up  to  the  house,  where,  strangely 
enough,  there  was  no  sign  of  the  doctor.  Mr. 
Austin  sat  outside,  in  his  easy-chair,  and  Martin 
and  Ned  were  both  there,  resting  in  the  cool  shade 
of  the  pepper-trees. 

The  visitors  took  in  the  situation  with  ready 
tact,  and  the  elder  talked  with  Hope  and  her 
father,  accepting  the  invalid's  stammering  mono 
syllables  and  weak  gestures  of  assent  with  as  grave 
and  unquestioning  comprehension  as  if  they  had 


HOPE'S  BLACK  ROSE.  263 

been  the  most  finished  speeches.  The  lieutenant 
entertained  Ned  and  Martin  with  amusing  anec 
dotes  of  his  academical  experiences,  or  drew  from 
the  boys  information  regarding  their  own  life  and 
work.  During  a  little  lull  in  the  conversation 
they  overheard  the  elder  gentleman  say  to 
Hope  :  — 

"  Miss  Austin,  you  write  a  very  clear  and  beau 
tiful  hand  for  a  young  lady.  Permit  me  to  con 
gratulate  you  on  it." 

Was  it  only  Martin's  fancy,  or  was  the  veteran 
eying  Hope  keenly  from  beneath  his  shaggy  eye 
brows  ? 

"  I  am  sorry  —  I  must  confess  —  I  did  n't  write 
it  myself,"  replied  the  girl,  flushing. 

"  Ah !  One  of  your  brothers,  I  suppose,  con 
ducts  the  business  correspondence  of  the  ranch  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Oar  friend  Dr.  John  drew  up  the 
letter,  to  give  me  an  idea  of  what  I  ought  to 
write.  I  liked  the  looks  of  his  letter  so  much  bet 
ter  than  my  own  that  I  sent  it." 

The  lieutenant  gave  a  light,  boyish  laugh  of  ap 
proval  at  this  frank  confession.  His  uncle  rebuked 
his  levity  with  a  glance. 

"  Dr.  John !  A  peculiar  name.  What  sort  of  a 
man  is  Dr.  John,  my  dear,  and  where  does  he 
live?" 

"Just  across  The  Brook,"  answered  Hope.  "As 
to  what  sort  of  man  he  is,  I  don't  think  any  one 
person  could  tell  you.  You  should  ask  the  whole 
district.  He  is  just  the  kindest  and  most  thought 
ful  and  generous  "  — 


264  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

The  visitor  cut  her  short  with  another  keen 
glance  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows. 

"  What  type  of  man  is  he  physically  ?  Is  he 
tall  or  short,  light  or  dark  ?  " 

"  You  must  see  him  for  yourself.  He  is  like 
other  men,  and  unlike  them,"  answered  Hope. 

"  How  long  has  he  lived  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  sir.     Ever  so  long." 

"How  far  does  this  famous  doctor's  practice 
extend  ?  " 

"  He  has  calls  from  all  over  the  country,"  said 
Ned,  proudly.  "  All  up  and  down  the  valley,  and 
from  the  bay  to  ten  miles  back  into  the  mountains. 
He's  been  here  so  many  years,  you  know;  and 
people  think  they  can't  get  well  without  him." 

"  Ever  go  down  as  far  as  Oakland  ?  " 

"  Not  as  a  rule,  sir." 

"Ah !  And  I  suppose  he  makes  all  his  purchases 
at  one  of  the  villages  around  here.  Gets  his  horse 
shod  here,  patronizes  a  country  butcher,  a  country 
tailor,  grocer,  druggist,  —  deposits  his  money  in 
some  grangers'  bank,  eh  ?  " 

There  was  something  so  peculiar  and  sinister  in 
this  question,  following  as  it  did  upon  the  others, 
that.  Ned  looked  keenly  at  the  gentleman,  as  if 
challenging  his  right  to  make  such  inquiries  re 
garding  the  doctor. 

Martin  flung  himself  into  the  breach. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  stoutly  replied.  "  Dr.  John  puts 

all  his  money  in  the  B bank,"  naming  a  little 

village  several  miles  away.  "  Goes  there  regularly 


HOPE'S  BLACK  ROSE.  265 

every  month.  Says  lie  wouldn't  trust  another 
bank  in  the  State." 

It  was  the  first  deliberate  falsehood  that  had  ever 
passed  the  boy's  lips. 

The  visitors  arose  to  go. 

"  I  must  see  you  again  about  your  rose,  Miss 
Hope,"  said  the  older  man,  kindly.  "  I  shall  be 
in  this  vicinity  for  some  time." 

Martin  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  as  the  two  figures 
crossed  the  bridge.  If  that  were  only  the  last  of 
them !  But  no  I  The  tall  gentleman  with  the  hawk 
like  eyes  had  said  that  they  would  remain  in  the 
neighborhood. 

What  their  motive  was  the  boy  could  not  guess, 
but  well  he  knew  that  it  boded  no  good  to  Dr. 
John. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

MARTIN  TRIES   TO   SAVE   DR.   JOHN. 

MARTIN  was  not  the  only  one  who  speculated 
over  the  strange  motives  that  brought  Colonel  Mar 
shall  (for  they  soon  learned  that  was  his  title,  hon 
orably  won  in  the  war  of  the  Rebellion),  to  the 
little  country  inn,  together  with  his  handsome 
nephew. 

At  the  village  the  colonel  and  his  nephew  posed 
as  enthusiastic  anglers.  When  they  were  not  on 
the  porch  of  the  little  hotel  or  loitering  around  the 
post-office,  they  were  sure  to  be  somewhere  up  The 
Brook,  equipped  with  rod  and  line  and  fishing 
baskets  which  they  oftenest  brought  back  empty. 
They  frequently  called  at  Home  Ranch,  and  often 
made  errands  there  for  fruit  and  milk,  to  eke  out 
their  noon-day  luncheon. 

Meanwhile  the  few  who  knew  him  best  could  not 
fail  to  note  Dr.  John's  strange  behavior. 

Instead  of  setting  out  upon  his  routine  of  pro 
fessional  visits  with  the  regularity  of  clockwork, 
after  his  usual  custom,  he  seemed  to  vary  his  hours 
every  day,  and  sometimes  started  out  in  early 
morning,  sometimes  at  noon,  and  sometimes  not 
until  late  in  the  afternoon;  he  invariably  drove 


MARTIN  TRIES  TO  SAVE  DR.  JOHN.       267 

along  the  highway  at  mad  speed,  while  he  shrank 
back  into  his  buggy,  looking  to  neither  right  nor 
left. 

Martin  alone  understood.  The  doctor  was  in 
hiding.  Had  he  not  seen  a  face  at  Dr.  John's 
upper  windows,  stealthily  watching  the  two  anglers 
as  they  lounged  up-stream  ?  Had  he  not  seen  Dr. 
John  hurry  out  to  the  stable  and  drive  off  on  a  mad 
race  over  the  country,  as  soon  the  two  men  disap 
peared  from  sight  ?  Why  did  the  doctor  come  over 
to  see  them  only  when  the  colonel  and  his  nephew 
had  gone  to  the  city  ?  And  why  did  he  ask  him  — 
Martin  —  to  bring  his  mail  from  the  post-office  ? 
Why  did  the  hunted  look  on  the  doctor's  face 
deepen  day  after  day,  until  he  reminded  the  im 
aginative  boy  of  some  wild  animal  brought  to 
bay? 

A  scrap  of  conversation  which  the  boy  overheard 
one   day    served   to   confirm  his  worst  suspicions. 
He  had  followed  Colonel  Marshall  and  Lieutenant 
Hobart  up-stream  to  give   them  a  basket  of  lus 
cious  apricots,  which  they  had  engaged  on  their 
way.     He  heard  their  voices  floating  out  of  a  leafy 
covert  that  overhung  a  deep  pool,  famous  for  trout. 
The  first  word  that  he  caught  was  the  doctor's 
name.     Martin  was  a  young  fellow  who  would  have 
scorned  the  very  suggestion  of  eavesdropping,  but 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  over-riding  one's  dearest 
principles  for  the  sake  of  a  friend. 
He  stood  still  and  listened. 
"  Two  weeks'  time  already  gone,  and  not  so  much 


268  THE  ABANDONED    CLAIM. 

as  a  square  look  at  this  Dr.  John  yet !  "    The  colo 
nel  spoke  impatiently. 

"  Yet  you  felt  sure  he  was  the  man,  that  day  we 
met  him  on  the  road,  —  fast  as  he  drove,  and  with 
his  hat  pulled  down  over  his  face,"  said  the  lieu 
tenant. 

"  Sure  ?  Of  course  I  'm  sure,"  insisted  the  colo 
nel  testily.  "  I  tell  you  I  should  recognize  that 
handwriting  if  I  came  across  it  on  a  papyrus  in  an 
Egyptian  tomb.  It 's  unmistakable." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  go  straight  to  his  house, 
uncle,  and  corner  him  there  ?  " 

"There  you  have  me,  Hobart,"  confessed  the 
colonel.  "  There  is  an  element  of  uncertainty. 
What  could  I  do,  what  could  I  say,  if  it  should 
not  be  the  right  man  after  all  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  anything  for  it,  Uncle  Robert,  but 
for  you  to  come  down  with  an  attack  of  the  gout, 
and  send  for  him ;  though  how  you  could  be  justi 
fied  in  contracting  it  on  such  fare  as  we  have  at 
that  snuffy  old  tavern  "  — 

"  And  there  is  the  danger  that  at  any  moment 
he  may  take  fright  and  make  off  to  Mexico  or 
Japan  or  South  America,  putting  me  to  endless 
expense  and  trouble,"  pursued  the  colonel,  seri 
ously.  "  For  now  that  I  'm  on  his  track  at  last, 
I  '11  never  give  up  until  I  've  got  him." 

But  here  Martin,  who  had  heard  quite  enough, 
made  his  appearance,  and  the  conversation  changed. 

Was  it  any  wonder  that  Martin  looked  forward 
with  apprehension  to  the  time  that  was  coming  for 


MARTIN  TRIES  TO  SAVE  DR.  JOHN.       269 

that  dreaded  semi-yearly  drive  to  Oakland?  He 
had  become  quite  hardened  to  it  by  this  time,  and 
looked  upon  his  part  in  the  errand  as  a  disagree 
able  duty  he  was  glad  to  discharge,  but  he  felt  un 
accountably  disturbed  as  he  thought  of  starting  out 
under  the  colonel's  sharp  inspection. 

Yet  he  had  not  the  heart  to  show  any  reluctance 
when  the  doctor  one  day  hailed  him,  and  said :  — 

"  Well,  Martin,  ready  for  a  long  ride  to-morrow?  " 

"Why,  certainly.  Of  course,  Dr.  John,"  stam 
mered  the  young  fellow. 

"  I  want  to  make  an  early  start,  —  six  o'clock  at 
the  latest.  Will  you  be  on  hand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Martin,  secretly  hoping  that 
he  might  wake  up  sick  the  next  morning,  that  Dr. 
John  might  have  an  urgent  call  from  some  patient 
in  another  county,  that  his  horse  might  cast  a  shoe, 
—  anything  to  prevent  the  engagement  from  being 
kept. 

But  none  of  these  fatalities  occurred.  They 
started  at  the  appointed  time  and  sped  away  over 
the  smooth  road  leading  city-ward. 

As  they  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
Martin,  hitherto  torn  by  conflicting  anxieties  and 
doubts,  came  to  a  new  resolution. 

He  would  warn  the  doctor.  The  time  for  re 
serve,  for  all  false  delicacy,  had  gone  by.  The 
doctor  must  be  brought  to  a  realizing  sense  of  his 
position  and  the  danger  in  which  he  stood.  It 
would  be  a  sin  to  keep  silence  any  longer. 

But  how  difficult  it  is  for  a  person  with  any 


270  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

delicacy  or  sentiment  to  talk  plainly  to  a  friend, 
and  on  such  a  subject !  Six  separate  times  the  boy 
nerved  himself  to  his  task,  and  six  separate  times 
subsided  into  silence,  with  the  fateful  words  trem 
bling  on  his  lips.  He  moved  so  uneasily  upon  his 
seat,  and  turned  suddenly  upon  the  Doctor  so  many 
times,  only  to  turn  away  as  suddenly,  that  Dr.  John, 
observing  his  pale  face  and  agitation,  was  stirred 
to  a  professional  interest. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  Martin  ?  Cramps  ?  Been 
eating  too  many  green  apples  ?  " 

Now  it  is  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  have  your  solici 
tude  for  a  friend's  spiritual  welfare  construed  into 
an  attack  of  indigestion,  by  the  object  of  your  anx 
iety,  and  Martin  was  half  inclined  to  abandon 
Dr.  John  to  his  fate.  But  he  remembered  all  that 
they  owed  the  doctor,  and  pondered  the  colonel's 
savage  threat,  and  nerved  himself  for  one  more 
effort. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  well  enough.  You  —  you  need  n't 
mind  me,  Dr.  John.  But  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you 
about  a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance.  And 
please  don't  drive  so  fast,  Dr.  John,  and  don't  be 
offended  with  me  for  speaking  about  it.  It 's  been 
such  a  long  time,  you  know  "  — 

Martin  had  fairly  launched  out  at  last,  and  there 
is  no  doubt  that  his  momentum  would  have  carried 
him  to  the  point  at  which  he  was  aiming,  but  an 
unexpected  interruption  occurred  at  that  moment. 

A  stout  farmer,  who  was  returning  from  town, 
on  espying  Dr.  John  reined  up  his  horses,  and  be- 


MAETIN  TEIES  TO  SAVE  DE.  JOHN.       271 

gan  to  ask  his  advice  about  his  wife,  who  had  been 
ailing  seriously  for  weeks  past.  This  appeal  to  the 
doctor's  professional  knowledge  banished  the  care 
worn  look  he  had  worn,  and  quickened  his  gener 
ous  instinct  of  helpfulness.  When  the  farmer  had 
driven  on  again  Dr.  John  turned  pleasantly  to 
Martin. 

"  You  were  saying  something,  Martin.  Of  course 
you  can  speak  to  me  freely.  Don't  be  afraid  of 
offending  me." 

Martin  gave  one  searching  look  at  the  kind  and 
honest  face  turned  upon  him,  and  his  courage  fled. 
How  could  he  tell  a  man  who  looked  like  that,  that 
he  knew  him  for  a  detected  criminal,  that  spies 
were  even  now  upon  his  track,  that  prison  gates 
yawned  before  him ! 

"Well,  Martin,  what  is  wrong?"  urged  the 
doctor. 

"  Oh,  it 's  only  —  nothing  but  Beauty.  She  's 
got  a  sort  of  boil  on  her  neck.  We  don't  know 
whether  to  open  it  or  poultice  it  " — 

The  absurdity  of  such  an  appeal,  following  such 
a  prelude,  struck  Dr.  John  so  forcibly  that  he 
laughed  outright. 

"  Poultice  it  by  all  means,  if  Beauty  will  submit 
to  it.  I  assure  you,  Martin,  that  '  never  use  the 
knife  where  flaxseed  will  do  the  business,'  is  one 
of  the  most  solemn  tenets  of  the  medical  profes 
sion." 

Martin  was  red  with  wrath  at  himself,  at  Dr. 
John,  and  at  the  circumstances  that  had  conspired 
to  move  him  to  make  a  goose  of  himself. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

DR.   JOHN  IS   BROUGHT   TO   BAY. 

MARTIN'S  wrath  subsided  and  Dr.  John  grew 
serious  as  he  reined  his  horse  in  a  new  place,  a 
couple  of  blocks  back  of  the  business  centre. 

"Here,  Martin,"  he  said,  handing  the  boy  a 
stout  leather  purse.  "  Go  to  the  Oakland  Savings 
Bank  this  time.  Have  it  made  out  to  the  same 
person :  do  you  remember  ?  and  give  in  any  name 
you  choose  ;  better  a  woman's.  Don't  wait  a  mo 
ment  after  you  are  through." 

Everything  favored  Martin ;  it  was  half  an  hour 
after  the  time  of  opening  and  there  were  few  peo 
ple  there.  The  money  was  paid  in,  and  counted, 
and  handed  over  for  deposit  in  the  vault.  The 
draft  was  made  out  and  about  to  be  placed  in  Mar 
tin's  hands,  when  an  electric  bell  sounded. 

"  Just  excuse  me  a  moment,"  said  the  clerk  who 
was  waiting  upon  Martin,  and  he  stepped  into  an 
inner  office. 

The  boy's  keen  ears  caught  the  sound  of  low 
voices  in  consultation  there.  He  was  half  disposed 
to  slip  out  of  the  building  unperceived,  but  his  feet 
seemed  frozen  to  the  spot.  His  mind  was  a  blank. 
He  wished  with  all  his  heart  Dr.  John  had  in- 


DR.  JOHN  IS  BROUGHT  TO  BAY.          273 

structed  him  as  to  what  he  should  do  in  case  of  se 
rious  trouble,  for  he  felt  as  incapable  of  intelligent 
reasoning  or  action  as  a  babe. 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  glass  office.  The  clerk 
reappeared,  accompanied  by  the  president  of  the 
bank  and  —  oh,  horror  !  Colonel  Marshall. 

Colonel  Marshall  coolly  possessed  himself  of  the 
draft,  and  fixed  his  hawk-like  eyes  upon  Martin. 

"  Now,  young  man,"  he  said,  "  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it  and  save  us  further  trouble.  What 
person  gave  you  this  money  ?  " 

"  Nancy  Brown,"  replied  Martin  promptly,  loyal 
to  his  trust,  although  he  shook  from  head  to  foot. 

"  '  Nancy  Brown'!"  repeated  the  colonel,  sa 
tirically.  "  This  reads  '  Susan  Brown.' ' 

"  I  mean  —  I  meant  to  say  Susan,"  insisted  the 
wretched  Martin.  "  They  —  she  sometimes  calls 
herself  4  Nancy,'  you  know." 

"  Oh,  she  does,  does  she  ?  "  commented  the  colo 
nel  with  a  very  uncomfortable  emphasis  on  the  pro 
noun. 

"  Now,  Martin,"  he  urged,  speaking  kindly  and 
persuasively,  "own  up  that  Dr.  John  sent  you, 
or  look  me  in  the  eye  and  tell  me  that  he  did 
not." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  that  he  did,  when  he  did  not, 
can  I  ?  "  persisted  the  lad,  trying  hard  to  meet  the 
keen  eyes  and  ignobly  failing. 

There  was  a  brief  silence.  Martin  felt  that 
shame  hung  out  her  flaming  banners  in  his  cheek, 
but  he  pursued  his  momentary  advantage. 


274  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  If  you  will  please  to  give  me  that  paper,  sir ! 
Mrs.  Brown  is  waiting  for  it  and  she  is  in  a  hurry." 

With  a  quick  movement  he  caught  up  the  paper, 
as  the  colonel's  fingers  unwillingly  relinquished 
their  hold  upon  it.  He  walked  with  dignity  to  the 
door,  the  way  seeming  interminably  long.  Once 
outside,  he  dashed  down  the  steps  and  ran  swiftly 
up  the  street,  feeling,  rather  than  hearing,  pursuers 
at  his  back. 

He  turned  into  the  Twelfth  St.  market  and  raced 
through  it  without  slackening  his  speed,  to  the  as 
tonishment  of  fish,  vegetable,  and  fruit  venders. 
He  turned  down  lanes  and  alleys,  doubling  upon 
his  own  path,  ran  to  the  right,  to  the  left,  and  to 
the  right  again,  and  finally  slipped  down  an  alley 
and  out  again  upon  the  street  opposite  the  place 
where  he  had  left  the  doctor,  triumphant  in  having 
eluded  pursuit,  the  paper  in  his  hand,  joy  in  his 
eye. 

Just  as  he  came  in  sight  of  the  buggy,  Colonel 
Marshall  and  his  nephew,  approaching  from  oppo 
site  directions,  closed  in  upon  it. 

"  Oh,  Martin ! "  exclaimed  Dr.  John  with  one 
reproachful  look  at  the  youth. 

"  Run  to  cover  at  last,  old  fellow !  "  cried  the 
colonel,  in  a  resonant  voice. 

The  doctor's  face  would  have  moved  a  stone  to 
pity.  Pale  and  silent,  he  stared  at  the  colonel  as 
if  there  arose  before  him  some  terrible  phantom  of 
the  buried  past. 

"Yes,  I  knew,  Marshall,  knew  you  were  here ; 


DR.  JOHN  IS  BROUGHT  TO  BAY.          275 

knew  this  was  coming.  It  is  useless  to  strive 
against  destiny." 

"  You  knew !  And  you  have  the  face  to  tell  me 
so  ?  "  sternly  demanded  the  colonel.  "  Eighteen 
years  I  've  been  looking  for  you  "  — 

Lieutenant  Hobart  gave  Martin's  arm  a  violent 
jerk.  "  Come  along.  You  ride  back  with  me. 
My  uncle  will  take  care  of  your  '  Dr.  John,' "  he 
said. 

Martin  resisted. 

"  I  'in  going  to  stay  here,"  he  said  doggedly,  free 
ing  himself  from  young  Marshall's  grasp. 

To  his  surprise,  Dr.  John  seconded  the  lieuten 
ant. 

"  Go  along  with  him,  Martin,"  he  said  decisively. 

Martin  had  no  choice  but  to  obey.  He  loitered 
long  enough,  however,  to  see  the  colonel  get  into 
Dr.  John's  buggy  and  drive  off  in  another  direction. 
He  could  see  that  the  two  men  were  in  earnest  con 
versation,  the  colonel  insisting  upon  something,  the 
doctor  resisting. 

Whatever  Dr.  John's  humiliation,  Martin  felt  a 
miserable  comfort  in  the  reflection  that  he  was  at 
least  bearing  his  own  share.  He  could  not  reply 
to  the  lieutenant's  gay  sallies  on  the  way  home. 
Young  Marshall  seemed  in  particularly  happy  spir 
its,  and  sang,  and  jested,  and  merrily  commented 
on  passing  sights  with  a  levity  that  disgusted  Mar 
tin  as  much  as  it  exasperated  him. 

At  last  he  turned  savagely  upon  the  young 
man:  "How  can  you  be  so  jolly,  when  you've 


276  THE   ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

been  a  witness  to  such  a  scene  as  that :  seen  your 
uncle  drag  a  good  man  —  yes,  sir,  a  good  man  !  — 
in  the  dust.  I  don't  care  what  you  say ;  I  don't 
care  what  the  doctor 's  been  or  done  when  he  was 
young  ;  he  's  a  good  man  to-day.  Ask  any  one  in 
the  valley.  Ask  the  sick  people  he  's  made  well. 
Ask  the  dying  he  's  brought  back  to  life.  Ask  the 
poor,  —  yes,  and  the  bad  ones,  and  they  '11  all  tell 
you  there  isn't  one  who's  been  so  much  to  them. 
And  yet  you,  you  and  your  uncle,  come  here  to  dig 
up  some  old  skeleton  and  disgrace  him." 

The  lieutenant  gave  vent  to  a  prolonged  whis 
tle,  expressive  of  amazement,  amusement,  and  a 
dozen  other  sentiments. 

"  Martin,"  he  said,  very  irrelevantly,  as  Martin 
thought,  "  suppose  you  go  over  to  the  city  with  me 

to-night.  The  veterans  of  General Post  No. 

1  are  going  to  have  a  camp-fire,  and  a  jolly  good 
time  they  always  make  of  it.  You  've  never  seen 
anything  of  the  kind,  and  it  will  liven  you  up." 

Martin  was  completely  nonplussed  at  this  sin 
gular  invitation,  coming  under  such  peculiar  cir 
cumstances.  In  his  surprise  and  embarrassment 
he  did  what  many  older  people  have  done  in  like 
quandaries.  He  went  directly  counter  to  his  own 
inclinations,  and  agreed  to  go. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

AT   THE   CAMP   FIRE. 

MARTIN  did  not  see  the  colonel  when  he  and 
the  lieutenant  took  the  down  train  that  night. 
He  had  a  dim  consciousness  that  not  far  away,  on 
the  platform  and  in  the  gathering  gloom,  stood 
two  muffled  figures,  and  that  there  was  something 
strangely  familiar  about  them.  But  he  asked  Lieu 
tenant  Hobart  no  questions,  and,  oddly  enough, 
the  light-hearted,  talkative  young  fellow  was  for 
once  silent  and  preoccupied. 

Martin  himself  was  in  no  mood  for  merry-mak 
ing.  Only  that  day  he  had  seen  his  best  friend 
crushed  and  humiliated,  and  borne  away  like  a  con 
victed  felon.  He  had  told  those  at  home  something 
of  what  he  had  been  through,  and  had  been  glad  to 
escape  from  the  gloom  that  had  settled  over  the 
little  household. 

He  did  not  feel  at  all  like  seeking  amusement 
for  himself.  A  terrible  picture  was  before  his 
eyes,  of  an  ill-lighted,  grated  cell,  wherein  sat  a 
man,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  given  over  at 
last  to  overwhelming  despair.  Whenever  this  figure 
raised  its  face,  the  reproachful  eyes  seemed  to  seek 
his  own,  and  he  heard  again  the  doctor's  sharp  ex 
clamation  :  "  Oh,  Martin  !  " 


278  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

If  he  could  only  find  out  where  they  had  put  the 
doctor,  and  see  him  for  just  five  minutes.  Then 
he  could  explain  to  him  how  hard  he  had  tried  to 
save  him.  A  vague  idea  possessed  him  that  by 
keeping  close  to  the  lieutenant  he  might  contrive 
to  get  the  ear  of  Colonel  Marshall,  and  somehow 
influence  him  in  regard  to  Dr.  John. 

They  crossed  the  ferry,  and  took  seats  in  the 
cable  car,  which  bore  them  to  their  destination. 
Still  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts,  young  Marshall 
led  the  boy  up  a  broad  stairway,  to  where  a  couple 
of  sentinels  guarded  the  entrance  to  the  room  occu 
pied  by  the  Post. 

A  heavy  door  swung  open  and  noiselessly  closed 
behind  them.  They  found  themselves  in  a  large 
hall,  lighted  only  by  the  glow  from  a  great  fire 
place,  where  a  pile  of  mimic  logs,  cunningly  sur 
rounded  by  gas  jets,  cast  a  ruddy  light  on  the 
grizzled  veterans,  some  seated  and  some  standing 
in  the  foreground,  deepening  the  shadows  in  the 
background. 

W  hat  a  buzz  of  voices,  fusillade  of  fun  and  bat 
tery  of  jest !  The  old  soldiers  chattered  and  gos 
siped  like  a  parcel  of  girls  let  loose  from  school. 
Sometimes  the  conversation  was  confined  to  little 
knots  and  groups;  sometimes  it  was  general,  as 
some  absorbing  topic  of  common  interest  was  in 
troduced,  and  several  of  the  brightest  speakers 
took  the  floor.  Occasionally  it  was  interrupted  by 
the  entrance  of  old  comrades ;  now  and  then  it 
ceased  altogether,  as  all  hearkened  to  the  narration 


AT  THE  CAMP  FIRE.  279 

of  some  thrilling  incident  of  battle,  or  paid  the 
tribute  of  silence  to  the  mention  of  the  gallant 
dead. 

At  length,  from  the  darkened  shadows  of  the 
outer  circle,  a  tall  and  commanding  figure  arose. 
The  firelight  fell  full  on  his  face,  and  before  he 
commenced  to  speak,  Martin  recognized  Colonel 
Marshall.  In  spite  of  the  young  fellow's  preju 
dice  he  could  not  help  a  thrill  of  admiration  at  the 
veteran's  soldierly  bearing,  his  intelligent,  aristo 
cratic  old  face,  the  resounding  voice  that  pene 
trated  the  hall,  commanding  instant  attention. 

"  Comrades,  the  veterans  of  the  Rebellion  are 
answering  a  new  roll  call.  Their  ranks  on  earth 
are  thinning  faster  than  ever  before  shot  and  shell. 
Each  year  that  we  come  together  we  miss  familiar 
faces.  Advancing  years  only  serve  to  strengthen 
the  ties  that  bind  us  together,  and  the  memory  of 
those  who  fought  and  bled  and  fell  beside  us  in  the 
conflict  of  twenty  odd  years  gone  by. 

"  Many  of  us  are  united  by  ties  antedating  the 
commencement  of  the  great  struggle.  The  com 
pany  in  which  I  enlisted,  at  the  breaking  out  of 
the  war,  was  largely  recruited  from  the  students  of 
a  college  in  the  town  where  I  was  born.  Some  of 
us  were  already  nearing  thirty ;  many  had  just 
attained  their  majority.  Even  in  the  preparatory 
department,  half-grown  lads,  fired  with  patriotic 
zeal,  came  forward  to  enlist,  and  then  returned  to 
school,  crestfallen  at  being  disqualified  by  lack  of 
years. 


280  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  You  all  remember  Jack  Sherwood,  the  major 
of  our  regiment.  A  few  who  are  here  to-night  will 
recall  him  as  one  of  those  disappointed,  humiliated 
boys.  But  Jack  was  not  to  be  daunted  in  his 
resolve  to  fight  for  the  preservation  of  our  Union. 
He  forsook  school,  plunged  heart  and  soul  into  the 
study  of  medicine,  and  in  less  than  a  year  came 
down  to  the  battle  front  as  assistant  surgeon. 

"  You  know  how  he  worked  in  the  field,  as  cool 
and  brave  as  any  soldier  in  the  corps,  giving  food 
and  drink  to  the  wounded,  and  carrying  them  to 
places  of  safety,  with  bullets  whizzing  about  him. 
You  remember  how  he  stepped  into  the  ranks  the 
day  he  was  eighteen,  and  rose  by  degrees  to  lieu 
tenant,  captain,  and  major.  But  you  don't  know 
that  he  might  have  been  your  colonel,  and  I  re 
mained  where  I  was  beneath  him,  if  he  had  n't  told 
a  lot  of  stuff  about  me,  that  day  we  made  our  last 
desperate  charge  at  Chattanooga,  and  insisted  on 
my  being  promoted  over  his  head. 

"  Some  of  you  know  what  happened  afterwards  : 
how  he  came  out  of  the  army  in  feeble  health,  and 
tried  to  take  up  the  practice  of  his  profession 
when  neither  mind  nor  body  was  able  to  sustain 
the  effort.  It  was  like  Major  Sherwood,  when  he 
found  himself  a  broken-down  man,  when  he  saw  no 
future  before  him  except  as  a  physical  wreck,  an 
incumbrance,  as  he  thought,  to  family  and  friends, 
to  steal  away  from  those  who  would  have  found 
their  best  happiness  in  caring  for  him,  to  go  off 
among  strangers  to  suffer  in  silence.  .  .  .  There 


AT  THE  CAMP  FIRE.  281 

were  some  of  us  who  could  n't  give  him  up.  There 
is  not  a  State  in  the  Union,  scarcely  a  town  of  any 
size,  where  some  of  us,  at  one  time  or  another,  have 
not  made  inquiries  for  him.  When  California  was 
designated  as  the  meeting-place  of  the  Grand  Army 
this  year,  advancing  age  and  business  cares  weighed 
so  heavily  upon  me  that  I  at  first  thought  I  could 
not  come.  One  day  a  letter  that  I  received  caused 
me  to  change  my  mind." 

The  colonel's  speech  had  all  along  been  delivered 
in  a  peculiarly  jerky  and  abrupt  fashion.  •  As  he 
neared  the  close  he  seemed  to  have  difficulty  in 
framing  what  he  wished  to  say.  His  ringing  utter 
ances,  designed  for  the  ears  of  the  assembled  com 
pany  of  veterans,  were  interspersed  with  sotto  voce 
speeches  of  a  mysterious  character  :  — 

"  I  ran  him  to  ground  at  last,  and  when  he  found 
he  could  n't  get  away,  he  —  (Be  still,  can't  you  !) 
—  gave  up.  But  it  was  only  by  a  subterfuge  I  got 
him  here  to-night.  (No,  I  don't  let  you  go  so  easy, 
old  fellow  !)  And  I  know  there  's  not  a  man  here  — 
(Oh,  yes,  I  '11  except  you)  —  who  will  not  rejoice  to 
meet  once  more  the  most  gallant,  unselfish  —  (No, 
you  don't  choke  me  off  now  !)  —  modest  hero  that 

the  Pennsylvania th  ever  numbered  among  her 

officers." 

The  colonel's  voice  rose  to  a  shout  with  the  last 
words. 

"  Quick,  there !  Strike  a  light !  Head  him  off ! 
He  's  making  for  the  door.  Lock  it !  He  '11  get 
away  from  us  yet." 


282  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

A  dozen  lights  were  struck.  The  chandeliers 
flashed  up,  a  blaze  of  illumination.  There  was  a 
cry,  — 

"  Hurrah  for  the  major !  " 

Everybody  who  was  sitting  down  had  jumped  up 
and  was  pressing  forward  or  trying  to  look  over 
somebody  else's  head.  Martin,  eager  as  the  rest, 
and  curiously  moved,  he  knew  not  why,  mounted  a 
chair,  so  that  he  out-topped  the  tallest  veterans. 

And  what  did  he  see  ? 

Dr.  John,  caught  in  the  very  act  of  edging  to 
ward  the  door.  Dr.  John,  looking  like  a  detected 
criminal,  as  his  old  comrades  laid  hold  of  him  and 
brought  him  back,  reproaching  him  and  cheering 
him  in  one  breath.  Dr.  John,  called  upon  for  a 
speech,  and  starting  out  bravely,  not  to  say  defi 
antly,  then  faltering  and  breaking  down,  as  old 
associations  flooded  his  memory.  Dr.  John,  pro 
testing  that  he  was  no  speech-maker,  but  rising  to 
the  occasion,  nevertheless,  and  giving  utterance  to 
patriotic  sentiments  in  a  way  that  stirred  the  loy 
alty  of  the  old  veterans,  and  made  the  hall  resound 
again  with  cheers.  Dr.  John,  the  hero  of  the 
evening,  whose  name  and  praises  were  on  every 
tongue. 

How  small  and  mean  Martin  felt !  What  a  goose 
and  sneak  and  lunatic  he  had  been  !  And  when  the 
doctor,  his  self-possession  a  little  restored,  though 
still  protesting  against  the  extravagant  honors  done 
him,  catching  sight  of  Martin,  said  pleasantly,  "  I 
think  I  see  a  young  friend  of  mine  over  there,"  and 


AT  THE  CAMP  FIRE.  283 

called  the  lad  to  his  side,  how  proud  and  unworthy 
Martin  felt  under  the  distinction. 

But  it  was  a  great  event  for  the  young  fellow, 
none  the  less,  one  to  be  treasured  and  remembered 
all  his  life,  to  be  told  over  and  over  again  to  eager 
listeners  at  home,  to  be  dwelt  upon  when  the  dark 
tragedy,  already  impending,  descended  upon  the 
little  colony  beside  The  Brook, 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

TROUBLE   IN   THE   VALLEY. 

THE  Grand  Army  disbanded,  and  the  old  sol 
diers  went  their  separate  ways,  with  many  a  cordial 
grasp  of  hands  and  many  a  dimmed  eye. 

Before  Colonel  Marshall  and  his  nephew  re 
turned  to  their  Eastern  home,  they  made  a  long  call 
at  Home  Ranch. 

On  this  occasion  Hope  showed  them  a  little  col 
lection  of  wild  flowers  she  had  pressed,  that  greatly 
interested  them,  and  the  colonel  made  inquiries 
about  their  growth  and  habits,  which  she  was  able 
to  answer  with  intelligence. 

Then  they  walked  down  into  the  rose  garden,  for 
a  parting  look  at  the  "  Agnes  Clifford."  After  a 
short  period  of  rest  the  plant  was  again  putting 
forth  a  profusion  of  buds. 

"  How  comes  it,  Miss  Hope,"  asked  the  colonel, 
"  that  while  you  have  so  many  roses,  and  a  number 
of  choice  ones,  I  see  that  many  of  the  standard 
kinds  are  not  here,  and  you  have  none  of  the  new 
roses  that  have  been  introduced  during  the  last  few 
years.  Did  you  get  tired  of  planting  them  ?  " 

"  Tired  of  roses  ?    Oh,  no,  no,  no !  "  cried  Hope. 

"  But  you  felt  that  you  had  enough,"  suggested 
the  colonel. 


TROUBLE  IN  THE  VALLEY.  285 

"  No,  Colonel  Marshall,"  replied  Hope,  looking 
down,  while  her  cheeks  vied  in  color  with  the  most 
brilliant  of  her  crimson  roses  ;  "  that  was  n't  it  at 
all.  Something  happened  that  spoiled  the  pleasure 
for  me.  I  used  money  that  I  ought  not  to  have 
used.  It  was  n't  exactly  dishonest,  but  it  was 
wretchedly  mean,  and  it  made  lots  of  trouble.  I 
felt  as  if  I  could  never  buy  another  rose.  Ned 
wanted  to,  but  I  would  n't  let  him." 

"  Why,  why  !  "  exclaimed  the  colonel,  hardly 
knowing  whether  to  be  most  touched  or  amused  by 
this  confession,  while  Lieutenant  Marshall  did  not 
take  his  eyes  from  the  charming,  downcast  face. 

"  We  will  make  that  all  right,"  pursued  the  colo 
nel,  breaking  the  awkward  silence.  "  You  don't 
need  to  pay  out  money  for  them.  You  have  just 
been  showing  me  something  as  good  as  gold  with 
any  Eastern  florist." 

"  The  —  black  rose  ?  "  asked  Hope. 

"No,  my- dear.  That  is  a  much  more  important 
matter,  and  I  shall  not  make  you  an  offer  in  regard 
to  it  until  I  am  home  and  can  consult  with  my  head 
gardener.  I  mean  your  California  wild-flowers, 
seeds  and  plants.  I  would  n't  ask  for  any  better 
currency.  Why  can't  you  send  them  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  do  it,"  replied  Hope 
warmly. 

Then  the  colonel  reverted  to  the  subject  of  the 
black  rose. 

"  Which  would  you  like  best,  a  specified  sum 
outright,  or  a  royalty  on  all  the  plants  that  are 
sold?" 


286  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  A  '  royalty '  ?  "  repeated  Hope  inquiringly. 

"  Yes,  a  royalty.  That  means  a  certain  per 
centage  on  all  the  sales,  just  as  an  author  has  a 
royalty  on  a  book.  Only,  in  this  case,  if  you 
preferred  the  royalty,  we  should  of  course  pay  you 
a  small  sum  outright,  for  there  is  no  question  as  to 
the  value  of  your  rose,  and  there  always  is  a  very 
serious  question  as  to  whether  a  new  book  is  worth 
the  paper  it  is  printed  on." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  very  nice,  and  fair  besides, 
to  have  the  royalty,"  said  Hope. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  colonel,  looking  pleased. 
"  Now,  Miss  Hope,  will  you  do  me  the  kindness  to 
accept  a  couple  of  small  articles  you  will  find  very 
useful  in  your  work  among  the  flowers  ?" 

Timid  as  a  boy,  yet  with  the  stately  courtesy  of 
a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  he  drew  a  couple  of 
small  parcels  from  his  pocket,  and  brought  to  light 
a  pair  of  rubber  gloves  and  some  rose  shears,  which 
cut  and  held  the  rose  at  the  same  time,  and  which 
were  destined  to  save  Hope's  tender  hands  from 
many  a  thorn. 

The  lieutenant  lingered  a  little  longer.  Al 
though  he  was  a  genuine  West  Point  boy,  who  had 
passed  unscathed  through  a  dozen  flirtations,  this 
little  maid,  with  her  sweet  face  and  untutored  ways, 
had  somehow  won  upon  him  as  no  other  girl  or 
woman  had  ever  done. 

"  Miss  Hope,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  may  I 
—  shall  I  come  back  next  year  ?  " 

The  sixteen-year-old  girl  caught  her  breath  with 


TROUBLE  IN  THE  VALLEY.  287 

a  little  gasp  of  surprise  and  terror.  He  was  so 
handsome,  so  gentle-mannered,  so  amiable,  such  a 
thorough  gentleman,  every  inch  of  him !  She  did 
not  want  to  hurt  him,  and  his  blue  eyes  seemed 
wistfully  pleading  with  her.  Then  the  budding 
woman  in  her  arose,  and  strengthened  her  to  be 
true  to  herself  and  to  him. 

"  Not  on  my  account,  Lieutenant  Marshall,"  she 
said. 

Why  was  it  that  at  that  very  moment  the  mem 
ory  of  another  scene  bore  in  upon  her,  and  she  saw, 
in  his  place,  a  boy's  tear-stained  face,  and  heard  the 
boyish  cry  :  — 

"  Whatever  I  am  —  if  I  ever  amount  to  any 
thing,  Hope,  I  owe  it  all  to  you." 

Two  weeks  later  they  could  scarcely  believe  that 
the  Grand  Army  had  come  and  gone,  with  all  its 
train  of  exciting  incidents.  Dr.  John  (they  could 
not  call  him  by  the  name  to  which  he  was  entitled, 
nor  did  he  urge  it)  seemed  just  the  same  as  ever. 
He  had  steadily  resisted  the  importunities  of  the 
colonel  to  go  back  with  him  to  his  Eastern  home, 
but  it  was  noticeable  that  after  -the  departure  of  the 
visitors  he  looked  thin  and  worn.  This  was  easily 
accounted  for  by  the  prevalence  of  a  dangerous  ma 
larial  fever  throughout  the  valley.  The  constant 
demands  upon  him  night  and  day,  as  well  as  the  vol 
untary  aid  he  rendered  destitute  sufferers,  might 
well  have  taxed  a  stronger  constitution  than  his. 

Of  course  the  McCrarys  came  down  with  it,  just 
when  the  disease  had  abated  a  little  and  the  doctor 
most  needed  rest. 


288  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Matters  had  somewhat  changed  at  the  mountain 
ranch,  since  Mike  McCrary  started  out  to  prove 
himself  a  man.  The  house  was  in  better  repair 
and  better  furnished.  A  few  flowering  shrubs  re 
deemed  the  untidy  aspect  of  the  dooryard.  The 
children  went  to  school,  and  Sam,  at  nineteen  years 
of  age,  shamed  into  activity  by  Mike's  example,  had 
planted  a  considerable  acreage  in  vines,  to  which 
he  was  giving  indifferent  care. 

Nothing  could  make  a  change  in  the  slack,  inca 
pable  mother,  however,  and  the  children  generally 
patterned  after  her. 

One  of  the  little  girls,  however,  was  cast  in  a 
different  mould  from  the  rest.  She  was  a  fair- 
haired  child  of  thirteen,  with  sad  blue  eyes,  wherein 
one  seemed  to  read  the  story  of  her  neglected  child 
hood. 

Little  Mattie,  as  she  was  called,  was  a  gentle, 
lovable  girl,  who  under  almost  any  other  conditions 
would  have  been  a  general  favorite.  She  was  a 
diligent  scholar,  with  pretty,  lady-like  ways,  in  not 
able  contrast  to  the  rough  manners  of  the  others. 
Hemmed  in  by  every  disadvantage,  she  had  exerted 
all  her  slight  strength  to  bring  some  order  and  de 
cency  to  the  dirty,  unkempt  house.  Mike,  striv 
ing  all  the  while  with  a  sense  of  humiliation  as  he 
contrasted  his  own  home  with  the  orderly  house 
holds  of  the  valley,  where  his  industrious  habits  and 
jolly  disposition  made  him  a  general  favorite,  was 
little  Mattie's  devoted  champion,  and  secretly  looked 
forward  to  some  day  installing  her  as  housekeeper 
in  a  home  of  his  own. 


TROUBLE  IN  THE  VALLEY.  289 

When  the  fever  had  run  its  race  with  the  rest  of 
the  family,  Mattie,  the  faithful  and  devoted  nurse, 
fell  sick,  and  Dr.  John  saw  that  it  was  to  be  a 
sharp  struggle  if  he  would  save  her. 

Distracted  at  the  danger  that  threatened  his 
young  sister,  Mike  McCrary  left  his  work  in  the 
valley  and  came  to  her  bedside,  where  he  took  up 
his  quarters  as  a  faithful  and  tireless  watcher. 
Together  the  doctor  and  he  fought  for  the  child's 
life,  and  one  night  the  crisis  passed,  and  they  knew 
they  had  won  the  fight. 

With  his  finger  on  his  lips,  Dr.  John  arose  and 
tiptoed  out  of  the  house.  He  felt  strangely  worn 
and  tired,  now  that  the  sharp  strain  was  over. 
He  stretched  out  his  arms,  as  if  to  relieve  himself 
from  the  long  tension,  and  looked  up  to  the  stars, 
glittering  so  brightly  in  the  infinite  reaches  above 
him. 

A  footfall  sounded  on  the  turf,  and  Mike  stood 
beside  him,  his  haggard  face  dignified  by  its  look 
of  solemn  thanksgiving. 

"  It 's  your  work,  Dr.  John,"  he  said.  "  You  've 
saved  her.  There  is  n't  anything  in  the  world  I 
would  n't  do  for  you.  I  'd  lay  down  my  life  for 
you." 

To  Ned,  Dr.  John  had  become  more  of  a  mys 
tery  than  ever  he  had  been  to  Martin.  Satisfied  as 
he  was  that  the  doctor  could  never  have  done  any 
thing  ignoble,  the  colonel's  story,  when  he  thought 
it  over,  was  fragmentary  and  incomplete. 


290  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Why  should  a  sick  man  flee  from  home  and 
friends  ?  In  what  had  the  doctor's  sickness  con 
sisted  ?  What  had  brought  about  his  complete  and 
miraculous  recovery  ?  and  what  did  the  doctor  mean 
by  his  reference  to  the  "  abandoned  claim,"  when 
first  they  came  upon  their  homestead  ? 

These  were  the  questions  that  absorbed  the 
young  man's  mind,  and  over  which  he  might  have 
continued  to  puzzle  had  not  a  weightier  problem 
displaced  them. 

The  occupants  of  Home  Ranch  became  involved 
in  a  dispute  which  never  could  have  occurred  any 
where  but  in  California. 

A  great  corporation,  which  earned  a  princely  rev 
enue  by  supplying  one  of  the  largest  cities  in  Cali 
fornia  with  water,  had  long  had  its  eye  on  The 
Brook,  on  account  of  its  copious  supply  of  clear 
water,  drawn  from  living  mountain  streams.  The 
supply  of  water  in  its  reservoirs  was  becoming 
inadequate  for  the  growing  city's  uses. 

So  the  corporation  went  vigorously  to  work,  buy 
ing  up  lands  along  the  headwaters  of  The  Brook, 
buying  out  some  of  the  riparian  owners  along  the 
line  of  the  stream,  confiscating  other  claims  by 
means  of  a  very  favorable  State  law  known  as  "  A 
Bill  defining  certain  Prescriptive  Rights,"  and 
finally  built  a  great  dam  to  divert  the  waters  of  The 
Brook  into  its  pipes. 

The  company  began  operations  a  couple  of  miles 
up  the  canon,  where  the  steep  cliffs  nearly  ap 
proached  each  other,  inclosing  a  considerable  area, 


TROUBLE  IN  THE  VALLEY.  291 

that  only  needed  a  heavy  wall  of  stone  across  the 
entrance  to  complete  a  vast  natural  reservoir. 

By  the  middle  of  August  its  work  was  com 
pleted,  and  just  as  the  farmers  came  to  the  season 
of  the  year  when  water  was  most  essential  to  them, 
the  sparkling  fluid  that  nature  and  the  Almighty 
had  decreed  should  refresh  the  valley  coursed 
through  it,  imprisoned  in  an  iron  pipe,  on  its  way 
to  the  city. 

The  people  of  the  valley  awoke  to  the  fact  that 
all  of  the  conventions  that  had  been  called  in  their 
midst,  the  blatant  speeches  that  had  been  made,  had 
been  an  empty  "  bluff,"  a  sham  fight  generated  by 
unscrupulous  men  who  had  sought  thereby  to  get 
a  better  price  from  the  Water  Company.  Several 
of  these  men  sold  their  riparian  privileges  out 
right  ;  others  compromised  for  a  liberal  allowance 
of  water  daily.  The  poorer  farmers,  whose  pros 
perity  or  ruin  depended  upon  the  security  of  their 
water  rights,  who  had  not  the  money  to  wage  a 
long  and  unequal  contest,  and  upon  whom  the  loss 
of  water  for  a  single  month  entailed  serious  priva 
tion  and  loss,  found  the  courts  deaf  to  their  appeals 
for  immediate  protection. 

The  Austins  with  difficulty  watered  their  cattle 
from  their  spring,  which  had  begun  to  show  the  ef 
fect  of  two  successive  dry  seasons  in  a  diminished 
flow  of  water,  and  saved  sufficient  for  household 
purposes.  The  bed  of  The  Brook  was  dry,  and 
the  hydraulic  ram  which  they  had  put  into  the 
stream  to  water  a  tract  of  small  fruits  planted  on 


292  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

the  lower  land  was  a  useless  encumbrance.  Their 
figs  were  withering  and  dropping  from  the  boughs ; 
green  raspberries  shriveled  and  turned  brown  upon 
the  bushes.  Even  Hope's  roses  began  to  look 
sickly,  while  garden  vegetables  parched  in  the  sun 
without  maturing.  Their  experience  was  typical 
of  what  was  being  undergone  throughout  the  val 
ley,  and  many  were  much  worse  off  than  they. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE   COURT   OF   LAST   RESORT. 

ONE  still  night  early  in  September,  as  the  boys 
were  returning  from  their  chores  about  the  stable, 
Martin  caught  Ned's  arm  in  excitement,  pointing 
to  the  open  stretch  of  road  on  the  opposite  side  of 
The  Brook. 

The  bridge  and  its  approaches  shone  white  in 
the  moonlight,  and  the  dead  sycamore  that  stood 
guard  on  the  further  side  of  the  water  penciled  a 
dark  tracery  of  naked  limbs  against  the  starry  sky. 
The  ground  beyond  was  dark  with  moving  figures. 
Cattle  ?  They  watched  for  a  moment  before  they 
could  satisfy  themselves.  No,  men,  men  on  horse 
back,  now  crossing  the  bridge,  which  rang  a  muffled 
response  to  the  clattering  hoofs.  Then  the  body 
seemed  to  pause,  as  if  for  brief  deliberation.  A 
moment  later  two  mounted  figures  dashed  up  the 
lane. 

The  boys  ran  down  to  meet  them.  The  horse 
men  drew  rein. 

"  Mr.  "Willetts  ! "  exclaimed  Martin,  wonder- 
ingly,  as  he  recognized  a  steady  young  ranchman, 
who,  with  his  wife  and  child,  lived  a  couple  of  miles 
further  down  the  stream. 


294  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Boys,"  said  the  farmer,  "  we  have  business  up 
the  canon  to-night.  Do  you  want  to  join  us  ?  " 

No  need  of  further  explanation.  Ned  answered 
like  a  soldier  to  the  roll-call :  — 

"  I  will  come." 

Then,  seeing  Martin's  eager  movement,  he  laid 
his  hand  on  his  brother's  shoulder. 

"Only  one,  Martin.  If  anything  should  hap 
pen,  they  must  have  you  to  depend  upon,"  and  he 
looked  in  the  direction  of  the  cottage. 

"  Make  haste,  Austin,"  said  Willetts.  "  Bring 
an  axe,  hatchet,  crowbar,  —  anything  you  have 
handy.  No  firearms,  mind." 

As  the  horsemen  took  their  way  up  the  canon, 
any  stranger  who  might  have  seen  them  would  have 
been  puzzled  to  make  out  their  character  and  pur 
pose.  Surely,  this  was  no  gay  cavalcade,  bound  on 
sport  or  pleasure,  nor  yet  could  it  have  been  mis 
taken  for  a  martial  company,  riding  forth  to  open 
contest,  where  it  expected  to  achieve  honor  and  re 
nown.  No  light  jests  passed.  There  was  no  laugh 
ter  on  the  grim  faces,  no  enthusiasm  in  the  downcast 
eyes.  It  was  more  like  a  funeral  party,  for  in  his 
heart  each  loyal  man  rebelled  against  the  position 
into  which  he  had  been  forced,  —  that  of  an  oppo 
nent  to  the  peaceful  administration  of  the  laws  of 
the  State. 

Yet  they  rode  on  and  on,  into  the  gloomy  shadows 
of  frowning  cliffs,  some  with  faces  bent  low,  until 
their  chins  rested  on  their  breasts,  others  with  heads 
raised  defiantly,  nerved  by  the  consciousness  that 


THE  COURT  OF  LAST  EESOET.  295 

whatever  the  result  of  their  mission,  they  were  the 
wronged  ;  the  great  corporation  the  aggressor. 

As  they  approached  the  third  crossing  of  The 
Brook,  a  receding  hillside  let  a  flood  of  light  into 
the  narrow  gorge  where  the  company  had  erected 
its  dam,  revealing  the  dry  and  stony  bed  of  the 
stream,  with  a  fringe  of  perishing  grasses  along  its 
margin.  Tall  alders,  sycamores,  and  willows,  which 
had  established  themselves  long  years  before  beside 
the  stream,  drooped  low  over  its  empty  channel, 
and  answered  the  night  breeze  with  quivering  sighs, 
as  if  mourning  the  inconstancy  of  the  stream  whose 
faithful  wooers  many  of  them  had  been  for  a  cen 
tury  past. 

A  hundred  yards  above,  a  broad  and  glistening 
wall  of  stone  crossed  the  gorge.  Along  this  three 
armed  men  were  pacing  like  sentinels  on  a  ram 
part.  The  ripple  of  imprisoned  waters  could  be 
heard  above. 

The  sound  maddened  the  ranchers.  This  was 
the  precious  fluid  for  want  of  which  their  stock  was 
dying,  their  gardens  and  small  fruit  parching,  their 
wells  running  dry. 

"  Halt !     Who  are  you  ?  " 

It  was  one  of  the  sentinels  on  the  dam  who  chal 
lenged  them. 

Loud  and  clear  came  the  reply  :  — 

"  We  are  seventy  determined  men  from  the  val 
ley.  We  want  water." 

"  I  am  here  to  protect  this  dam.  Don't  you 
come  nearer,  or  I  '11  fire." 


296  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

The  sentinel  raised  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  and 
leveled  it  at  the  crowd. 

One  of  the  men  on  horseback  pressed  to  the 
front,  and  as  if  in  response  to  this  movement  the 
whole  company  surged  forward. 

There  was  a  flash,  a  purl  of  smoke,  and  a  loud 
report  awoke  the  echoes  of  the  canon.  The  man 
who  had  first  moved  forward  reeled  in  his  saddle, 
and  fell. 

In  the  glamour  of  the  moonlight  no  one  seemed 
to  recognize  him.  There  were  wild  cries  of,  — 

"He  is  killed!" 

"  Who  is  he  ?  " 

"  No,  he  is  all  right.     See  !  he  is  up  again." 

They  had  not  dared  close  in  around  him,  lest  the 
horses,  already  terrified  and  prancing,  should  tram 
ple  him  down.  Those  near  to  him  instinctively 
drew  off,  while  one  or  two  quickly  dismounted  and 
ran  to  his  side,  but  before  they  could  reach  him  he 
was  on  his  feet,  holding  by  the  pommel  of  his  sad 
dle  to  steady  himself. 

"  I  only  wanted  a  word  with  you,  McCrary," 
he  said,  addressing  the  sentinel.  "Listen  to  me 
now.  These  men  are  honest  farmers,  men  you 
know  and  respect.  Most  of  them  settled  in  the  val 
ley,  along  the  line  of  this  stream,  before  the  water 
company  was  incorporated.  This  water  means  life 
and  subsistence  to  our  people.  Their  crops  are 
failing,  —  cattle  dying.  The  stagnant  pools  along 
the  bed  of  The  Brook  are  breeding  pestilence 
throughout  the  valley.  ...  Be  more  than  the 


THE  COURT  OF  LAST  RESORT.  297 

faithful  servant  of  a  rich  corporation.  Be  a  man, 
and  respect  the  rights  of  your  fellowmen." 

They  could  see  that  the  man  who  had  fired  the 
rifle  faltered  in  his  purpose.  He  had  lowered  the 
gun,  and  seemed  to  be  debating  with  himself  as  to 
what  course  he  should  pursue,  while  his  two  aids 
drew  near  and  stood  irresolute,  awaiting  his  orders. 

No  one  but  those  in  his  immediate  vicinity  had 
recognized  the  speaker.  His  voice,  raised  from  the 
ordinary  conversational  tone,  was  deep  and  sono 
rous,  qualities  emphasized  by  the  echoing  crags 
above.  In  the  moon's  deceptive  light,  faces  and 
forms,  seen  at  a  little  distance,  took  on  a  foreign 
aspect. 

He  spoke  again,  and  his  hearers  observed  a  huski- 
ness  and  broken  utterance,  like  one  who  battles 
against  a  growing  physical  weakness. 

"  Why,  McCrary,  are  you  so  blind  to  all  princi 
ples  of  right  —  that  I  must  appeal  —  as  man  to 
man  ?  Do  you  think  —  I  —  would  join  such  a 
movement  —  if  I  did  n't  know  —  it  was  in  the  in 
terests  of  justice  ?  Don't  let  us  have  any  more 
bloody  work  to-night.  McCrary,  you  said  once  — 
you  'd  do  anything  for  me.  Don't  fire  again  —  on 
unarmed  men  !  Let  me  be  the  first  —  and  the  last 
—  victim." 

He  was  sinking  in  the  arms  of  one  who  stood  be 
side  him.  Blood  was  drenching  his  garments,  and 
forming  a  pool  upon  the  ground  at  his  feet.  At 
the  last  words  Mike  McCrary  flung  his  rifle  back 
ward  into  the  deep  pool,  and  they  heard  a  splash  as 
it  struck  the  water  and  sank. 


298  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

He  leaped  down  from  the  dam,  and  forced  his 
way  to  the  side  of  the  injured  man.  None  who 
heard  him  ever  forgot  his  bitter  cry :  — 

"  O,  my  God  !     I  've  killed  the  doctor." 

They  made  quick  work  of  the  dam  after  that. 

Long  before  morning  The  Brook  was  rippling 
down  the  canon,  its  old  glad  self,  distributing  its 
bounty  throughout  the  valley,  and  cheering  the  face 
of  all  the  country. 


CHAPTER  XLL 
THE  DOCTOR'S  STORY. 

"Why,  Mike,  I  understand.  You  thought  it 
was  your  duty.  You  did  n't  know  me." 

Dr.  John  was  lying  on  a  litter  the  men  had  im 
provised  for  him.  Even  in  his  weakness  and  pain, 
he  was  mindful  of  others,  and  tried  to  comfort  the 
poor  fellow  who  hung  over  him  in  an  agony  of  self- 
reproach,  begging  his  forgiveness. 

The  wounded  man  gave  directions  to  those  about 
him  with  a  self-command  and  hardihood  that  awed 
them ;  but  his  first  thought  was  of  the  man  who 
was  accusing  himself  of  having  slain  his  best 
friend. 

"  Don't  take  on  so,  Mike.  If  any  one  had  to  go 
it  is  better  it  should  have  been  me.  I  have  —  no 
one  —  to  miss  me." 

"  No  one  to  miss  him  !  "  What  a  murmur  of  con 
tradiction  arose.  Who  could  not  be  better  spared  ? 
Who  would  be  so  sorely  missed  by  all  the  coun 
try? 

"  It 's  nothing  serious,"  insisted  the  doctor 
weakly.  u  I  '11  be  all  right  in  a  week  or  two. 
Now  take  a  place  at  the  head,  where  the  heaviest 
weight  comes,  Mike.  You  '11  do  penance  enough 
over  this  long  road.  I  'm  no  mean  weight." 


300  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Dr.  John  did  not  speak  again  until  the  sorrow 
ful  procession  rested  a  few  moments  near  the 
bridge.  Then  he  beckoned  Ned  to  him,  and  spoke 
in  an  undertone  :  — 

"  Don't  go  home,  Ned.  Send  word.  I  want 
you  to  stay  by  me  —  all  the  time.  There  is  some 
thing  —  I  must  say  to  you  —  to-night." 

The  ball  had  passed  through  the  doctor's  side, 
coming  out  again  at  the  back.  Whether  it  was  a 
mere  flesh  wound  or  had  penetrated  some  vital  or 
gan  was  a  matter  for  after  demonstration. 

Those  who  knew  the  doctor's  radical  precepts  were 
not  surprised  when  he  directed  that  the  wounds 
should  be  dressed  with  a  simple  wet  compress ;  but 
they  were  amazed  when  he  firmly  declined  their  pro 
posal  to  telegraph  for  another  physician. 

"  I  understand  my  case  best,"  he  insisted.  "  Ned 
is  to  be  my  chief  nurse.  McCrary  will  assist  him. 
Now,  friends,  do  not  be  offended  if  I  thank  you 
all,  and  ask  you  to  leave  me.  I  must  prescribe 
rest  and  quiet  for  my  patient." 

When  the  door  had  closed  behind  the  last  one, 
and  Mike  McCrary  had  been  dispatched  into  an 
adjoining  room,  Ned  obeyed  the  doctor's  gesture, 
and  took  a  seat  by  his  bedside. 

Many  minutes  passed  before  Dr.  John  spoke,  and 
as  Ned  waited  his  eye  roved  about  the  room,  ob 
serving  many  little  details  of  its  arrangement. 

It  was  a  large  chamber,  running  quite  across  the 
house,  and  a  double  window,  on  the  side  opposite 
the  bed,  looked  out  toward  Home  Ranch,  and  was 


THE  DOCTOR'S  STORY.  301 

embowered  with  sweet-scented  honeysuckle  in  which 
the  night  twitter  of  birds  was  plainly  audible.  A 
small  revolving  bookcase  and  an  easy-chair  beside 
the  casement  attested  that  this  was  the  doctor's 
study,  as  well  as  sleeping  apartment.  The  room 
was  furnished  with  the  utmost  simplicity.  An  in 
grain  rug  was  on  the  floor ;  a  table,  a  few  chairs,  a 
writing-desk,  and  the  ordinary  chamber  furniture 
completed  the  fittings  of  the  room. 

On  the  gray-tinted  walls  was  a  single  picture,  a 
painting  of  a  woman,  evidently  copied  from  a  mini 
ature.  The  serious  beauty  of  the  high-bred  face 
arrested  Ned's  attention.  He  had  never  seen  a 
face  that  could  compare  with  it,  yet  there  was 
something  in  the  expression  of  the  mournful  eyes 
that  was  peculiarly  saddening. 

Pie  was  relieved  when  the  doctor  at  length 
moved,  and  he  could  withdraw  his  gaze  from  the 
fair  face,  with  its  sad,  inquiring  eyes. 

Dr.  John  motioned  toward  a  pitcher  of  ice  water 
on  a  stand  near  by.  Ned  hastened  to  anticipate 
his  want. 

"  Had  n't  you  better  wait,  sir,  —  until  to-morrow, 
perhaps  ?  You  are  so  weak.  It  might  hurt  you 
to  talk  now.  After  a  good  night's  rest  "  — 

"  This  is  nothing,"  exclaimed  Dr.  John.  "  Loss 
of  blood,  nothing  more.  But  I  'm  not  in  the  best 
bodily  condition,  Ned,  and  this  is  going  to  bring 
back  an  old  trouble.  Ned,  I  'in  going  to  ask  of 
you  as  great  a  service  as  one  man  ever  asked  of 
another." 


302  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Ned  did  not  speak  in  reply,  but  his  look  held  a 
pledge  that  the  doctor  understood. 

"Ned,  Marshall  didn't  tell  the  whole  truth  — 
that  night  at  the  camp-fire.  He  glossed  over  facts. 
I  came  out  of  the  army  suffering  with  a  painful 
neuralgic  trouble,  the  result  of  a  gunshot  wound. 
I  took  opium  to  ease  the  pain.  When  I  got  the 
better  of  the  disease  I  was  a  slave  to  the  drug. 

"  I  'm  not  able  to  go  into  details  now.  I  had  a 
wife,  and  afterwards  a  little  daughter  was  born. 
They  were  dearer  to  me  than  my  own  soul ;  but  a 
man  who  once  becomes  enslaved  by  that  damnable 
habit  would  pledge  his  soul  for  a  single  grain  of  the 
drug.  I  started  in  with  a  tolerably  good  practice,  but 
half  the  time  I  was  unfit  to  attend  to  my  patients. 
My  child  fell  sick.  We  thought  she  could  not  get 
well.  I  did  what  I  could  for  her,  but  instead  of 
trying  to  comfort  my  poor  wife  I  took  larger  and 
larger  doses.  It  helped  me  not  to  care.  I  kept 
sinking  lower  and  lower.  My  credit  was  gone.  I 
was  mad  for  the  drug.  Ned,  I  did  a  dastardly 
thing.  I  robbed  the  little  savings  bank  of  our 
dying  child,  and  she,  —  my  wife,  —  saw  me." 

The  doctor  ceased  speaking,  and  pointed  to  the 
glass  of  water.  Ned  held  it  to  his  lips,  and  after 
a  pause  Dr.  John  resumed  his  story. 

"  She  did  not  say  a  word,  but  she  pointed  to  the 
door.  I  went  out  into  the  night,  an  abased,  God 
forsaken  creature.  ...  I  slept  on  the  ground  under 
a  tree  in  the  public  park  that  night.  I  did  n't  dare 
go  back  ;  I  thought  the  child  was  dead ;  but  then 


THE  DOCTOR'S  STORY.  303 

and  there  I  made  a  desperate  resolve  to  free  myself 
from  that  accursed  habit  or  die  in  the  attempt.  I 
started  out  into  the  country.  ...  I  can't  tell  you 
the  horrors  I  went  through.  I  can't  bear  to  recall 
them  to  this  day.  I  could  neither  eat  nor  sleep, 
but  I  walked  —  walked  —  walked  ;  scores  upon 
scores  of  miles,  always  avoiding  towns,  stopping  at 
farm-houses,  working  for  my  'meals  when  I  was 
able  to  swallow  anything  ;  now  and  then  putting  in 
a  week  or  so  working  in  the  field.  It  was  seed-time 
when  I  started  out,  and  it  was  harvest-time  when  I 
was  through.  The  return  to  a  simple,  healthful 
life,  the  exercise  of  disused  muscles,  the  absence  of 
temptation  and  opportunity,  had  effected  a  cure. 
.  .  .  But  I  could  n't  go  back.  .  .  .  Ned,  I  'm  going 
to  pass  through  a  season  of  terrible  pain.  I  'm 
afraid  of  myself.  There  's  a  bottle  of  arsenic  and 
a  bottle  of  morphine,  side  by  side,  on  the  shelf  in 
my  cabinet  in  the  next  room." 

"  I  '11  go  and  empty  out  the  morphine,  burn  it 
up,  —  bury  it,"  said  Ned,  anticipating  the  request 
the  doctor  was  about  to  make. 

The  doctor's  head  moved  nervously  on  the  pil 
low ;  a  contemptuous  expression  flitted  over  his 
face. 

"  The  principle  on  which  they  are  trying  to  run 
three  fourths  of  the  reformatory  institutions  in  the 
country,"  he  said  dryly.  "  Preserving  men  from 
temptation  by  shutting  off  temptation  from  them. 
As  if  any  lasting  good  could  ever  be  accomplished 
without  strengthening  a  man's  moral  nature  !  No, 
Ned.  Let  the  bottles  stand  there  ;  only,  if  worst 


304  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

comes  to  worst,  if  I  am  so  weak  as  to  beg  for  the 
opiate,  promise  me  you  '11  give  me  the  quicker 
poison  first." 

The  doctor  was  so  earnest  in  his  appeal  that 
Ned  gave  the  singular  pledge  without  a  second's 
thought. 

"  Now  you  know  —  why  I  don't  want  —  any 
woman  around.  You  understand  —  why  I  don't 
—  want  —  another  doctor,  —  why  I  would  rather 
.  .  .  depend  on  ...  you  and  Mike." 

The  doctor's  short  and  labored  breath  showed 
that  his  long  effort  in  speaking  was  telling  on  him. 
Ned  arranged  the  lights  in  the  room  so  as  to  throw 
the  bed  into  the  shadow,  and  was  soon  rejoiced  to 
see  his  patient  pass  into  a  deep  slumber. 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

THE    LAST    BATTLE. 

THE  hero  of  many  battles  had  one  more  to  fight, 
and  it  was  a  battle  unto  the  death. 

Ned  kept  a  vigilant  watch  over  the  sick-bed  that 
first  night,  not  even  lying  down  when  Mike  insisted 
upon  relieving  him. 

Their  patient  slept  so  heavily  that  both  watchers, 
unable  to  discriminate  between  the  sleep  of  health 
and  the  sleep  of  exhaustion,  were  greatly  rejoiced, 
and  looked  confidently  forward  to  a  marked  im 
provement  the  next  day  ;  but  towards  dawn  the  sick 
man  began  to  show  symptoms  of  restlessness  and 
fever,  and  he  awoke  in  violent  pain. 

Day  after  day  went  by  with  little  change  in  the 
doctor's  condition.  He  gave  directions  for  his  own 
treatment,  which  were  scrupulously  obeyed  by  his 
faithful  nurses. 

In  the  intervals  of  respite  from  pain,  he  would 
lie  calmly  looking  out  of  the  open  window  embow 
ered  with  honeysuckles,  his  thoughts  far  away. 
Sometimes  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  portrait, 
and  at  such  times  there  came  into  them  a  look  of 
sorrow  and  of  longing  pitiful  to  see. 

Rarely  he  aroused  himself  for  a  few  words  of 


306  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

conversation.  On  one  occasion  when  he  and  Ned 
were  alone,  he  spoke  to  the  boy  in  a  weak  and  fail 
ing  voice :  — 

"  If  I  should  get  pretty  low,  Ned,  ...  so  far 
gone  that  there  seems  to  be  no  other  hope,  I  sup 
pose  Dr.  Thompson  had  better  be  called  in.  But 
don't  be  in  a  hurry.  This  is  going  to  be  a  matter 
of  weeks,  not  days." 

"  Sha'n't  we  send  for  him  now  ? "  asked  poor 
Ned,  who  would  willingly  have  had  some  more 
mature  judgment  upon  which  to  lean. 

"No.  Just  at  the  last,  for  decency's  sake," 
replied  Dr.  John.  "  I  don't  want  to  go  out  of  the 
world  .  .  .  and  leave  ...  a  reputation  for  pig 
headed  obstinacy  .  .  .  behind  me.  But  mind,  no 
opiates,  even  if  he  prescribes  them." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  would  take  them  if  he  gave 
them  to  you.  You  underrate  your  own  moral  cour 
age,  Dr.  John,"  said  Ned  earnestly. 

"  You  don't  know,  Ned,  you  don't  know,"  said 
the  doctor  weakly.  "  Only  a  physician  knows  what 
miserable,  cowardly,  tyrannic  forces  .  .  .  these 
bodies  of  ours  are ;  how  they  buffet,  and  torment, 
and  cow  .  .  .  the  soul.  Stronger  men  than  I  have 
given  up,  — stronger  men  than  I." 

He  lay  with  his  eyes  closed. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  human  body  ever  held  a 
stronger  soul,"  cried  Ned  in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm. 

The  doctor  opened  his  eyes  once  more,  turning 
upon  Ned  a  glance  of  gratitude,  simple  and  un 
feigned  as  a  child'e.  Possibly  the  young  fellow's 


THE  LAST  BATTLE.  307 

faith  helped  to  strengthen  him  for  the  struggle 
before  him,  so  dependent  are  we  all  upon  the  sym 
pathy  and  confidence  of  our  fellow-beings. 

Thus  he  glided  into  the  heat  of  the  awful  conflict 
that  disease  was  about  to  wage  with  the  spirit  for  the 
possession  of  its  abused  and  worn-out  tenement. 

In  all  this  time  the  old  weakness,  whose  return 
he  had  so  dreaded,  never  once  overcame  him. 
Sometimes  when  the  pain  and  fever  were  at  their 
height,  when  it  seemed  as  if  exhausted  nature  must 
cry  aloud  for  some  relief  from  the  agony  that 
racked  the  enfeebled  frame,  the  sufferer  would 
turn  to  Ned  with  a  flitting  smile  that  seemed  to  say, 
"  Still  holding  out !  " 

At  such  times  Ned  always  answered  with  a  look 
of  undiminished  courage. 

After  all,  it  was  Ned  whose  courage  failed,  and 
not  the  doctor. 

One  day  there  came  upon  the  sufferer  a  parox 
ysm  of  pain  such  as  Ned  had  never  witnessed  be 
fore,  but  such  as  he  was  destined  to  witness  many 
times  during  the  weeks  to  come,  each  one  drawing 
the  sick  man  nearer  to  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death,  which  he  was  about  to  enter. 

Ned  forgot  his  promise,  forgot  everything  save 
that  before  him  was  lying  his  best  friend,  suffering 
as  it  seemed  no  mortal  could  long  suffer  and  live, 
while  near  at  hand  was  a  remedy  that  would  silence 
the  pain  and  bring  him  relief. 

He  rushed  into  the  next  room,  threw  open  the 
doors  of  the  cabinet,  seized  the  bottle,  and  returned 
to  the  bedside  of  Dr.  John  with  it  in  his  hand. 


308  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

If  he  had  known  the  proper  dose  he  would  have 
measured  it  out  and  administered  it ;  not  having 
the  faintest  idea  of  the  proper  quantity,  he  could 
only  hold  it  out  to  Dr.  John  and  beg  him  to 
take  it. 

An  indescribable  look  came  into  the  sick  man's 
face  ;  a  look  of  fearful  longing  mingled  with  terror 
shone  in  his  eyes  as  they  fell  on  the  drug.  Then 
he  raised  his  clenched  fist  and  trembling  smote 
the  bottle  from  the  young  man's  hand. 

"  Why,  Ned  ! "  he  gasped,  fixing  a  reproachful 
gaze  upon  him. 

It  was  the  most  humiliating  moment  of  the  young 
fellow's  life.  Long  years  after  he  remembered  the 
doctor's  look  and  heard  the  reproachful  words. 
Without  pausing  to  think,  he  caught  up  the  bottle 
and  flung  it  into  the  grate,  where  a  low  fire  had 
been  kindled  to  remove  the  morning's  chill.  There 
was  a  crash  of  glass,  and  then  the  greedy  flames 
licked  up  the  white  powder. 

A  moment's  respite  from  the  deathly  pain  that 
racked  him  would  have  been  a  priceless  boon  to 
the  sick  man  ;  yet  he  never  slept  save  in  fitful 
dozes  from  which  he  awoke  moaning  in  anguish. 
He  preserved  consciousness  until  the  morning  of 
the  twenty-fourth  day,  when,  a  little  past  midnight, 
a  deadly  torpor  crept  over  mind  and  body.  His 
muscles,  hitherto  strained  with  unnatural  tension, 
relaxed.  His  limbs,  cramped  with  pain,  grew  limp 
and  motionless.  His  clenched  hands  fell  weakly 
by  his  side  or  idly  plucked  the  counterpane. 

No  need  of  opiates  now.     The  delicate  nerves, 


THE  LAST  BATTLE.  309 

chords  of  physical  sensation,  swept  again  and  again 
by  the  merciless  throes  of  pain,  were  like  the  worn- 
out  strings  of  some  frail  musical  instrument,  and 
no  longer  responded  to  the  touch. 

Ned,  who  had  never  once  relaxed  his  vigils  over 
the  sick  man,  snatching  sleep  like  a  young  watch 
dog,  at  the  bedside,  found  that  the  clear  intellect 
had  at  last  become  clouded.  A  slow  lethargy  was 
stealing  over  mind  as  well  as  body.  His  frantic 
demands  for  some  sign  that  the  doctor  still  recog 
nized  him  brought  only  a  stammering,  wandering 
response. 

The  boy's  task  was  ended.  More  skill  than  he 
possessed  was  needed,  if,  indeed,  human  aid  could 
longer  avail. 

Mike  was  waiting  below.  It  had  become  appar 
ent,  at  an  early  stage  of  the  doctor's  illness,  that 
the  poor  fellow  was  not  a  fit  attendant  for  the  sick 
man.  His  constant  self-reproaches,  his  awkward 
and  noisy  movements,  disturbed  the  sensitive  pa 
tient,  and  the  unfortunate  fellow  voluntarily  abdi 
cated  his  place  as  nurse,  and  constituted  himself 
an  humble  helper  and  man  of  all  work,  performing 
every  menial  task,  bringing  lights,  fuel,  water ;  pre 
paring  bandages,  going  on  errands,  and  answering 
numberless  calls  from  anxious  inquirers. 

Ned  found  him  waiting  in  the  little  office  below, 
seated  on  the  edge  of  one  of  the  stuffed  leather 
chairs,  a  look  of  deep  anxiety  on  his  face. 

Ned  could  not  speak.  They  stared  at  each  other, 
trying  to  find  words  for  what  they  felt,  and  courage 
to  pronounce  them. 


310  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  Is  it  —  is  it  that  ?  "  blundered  Mike  at  last. 

"Yes,  Mike.     lam  afraid." 

Mike  crumpled  his  hat  —  it  was  his  Sunday  best 
—  between  his  hands,  jamming  it  into  a  shapeless 
lump,  as  if  in  this  act  he  might  find  relief  for  his 
over-charged  heart. 

"  Any  man  but  him !  If  it  had  been  any  man 
but  him  !  "  he  finally  broke  out.  "  What  '11  all  the 
valley  do  without  him  ?  Who  is  there  to  take  his 
place?" 

This  brought  to  Ned  the  memory  of  a  forgotten 
injunction. 

"  That  reminds  me,  Mike,"  he  said  hastily,  "  I 
was  to  send  for  old  Dr.  Thompson  in  case  this  — 
in  case  the  worst  came  to  pass.  I  promised  him  to 
do  so.  Will  you  carry  word  now  ?  " 

"I'll  go  right  off,"  cried  Mike,  starting  up, 
eager  to  do  something,  to  be  of  use  to  the  friend 
who  had  already  passed  beyond  knowledge  of  all 
human  effort.  During  all  the  doctor's  illness,  the 
possible  consequences  to  himself  never  occurred  to 
the  unhappy  fellow.  The  law  held  no  such  terror 
for  him  as  the  possibility  of  the  doctor's  death  by 
his  hand. 

"  I  '11  run  there  afoot  as  fast  as  any  man  can  ride," 
he  cried,  darting  through  the  door. 

It  may  well  be  imagined  that  when  the  news  of 
the  doctor's  injury  was  conveyed  to  Home  Ranch, 
it  had  occasioned  the  greatest  distress  and  anxiety 
there.  Hope  had  hastily  packed  in  a  valise  such 
articles  as  she  thought  Ned  would  need,  and  carried 
it  to  him  herself. 


THE  LAST  BATTLE.  311 

As  she  handed  it  to  him,  she  gave  him  four 
folded  silk  handkerchiefs,  red,  blue,  black,  and 
white,  presents  from  Ah  Wing,  the  doctor's  Chi 
nese  servant,  on  as  many  successive  China  New 
Years. 

"  Ned,"  she  said,  "  we  shall  all  want  to  know  how 
the  doctor  is  getting  along,  oftener  than  we  can 
send  or  come.  We  want  to  know  all  the  time. 
Take  these  handkerchiefs,  and  keep  one  of  them 
hanging  out  of  the  upper  window  that  looks  to 
wards  The  Brook,  —  the  blue  one  if  he  is  worse,  the 
white  one  if  he  is  better,  the  red  one  if  he  will 
surely,  surely  get  well,  and  —  oh,  Ned  !  —  the  black 
one,  if  there  is  no  more  hope." 

Ned  promised  to  remember  the  signals,  and  day 
after  day  the  blue  handkerchief  had  fluttered  from 
the  window,  conveying  its  discouraging  tidings  to 
the  three  watchers  across  The  Brook.  This  morn 
ing,  before  dawn,  Ned  went  to  the  place  where  he 
had  laid  the  handkerchiefs,  and,  untying  the  blue 
one,  hung  the  dark  messenger  of  sorrow  in  its  stead. 

Time  dragged  wearily  by.  He  did  not  know  till 
long  after  that  Mike  had  a  chase  of  ten  miles 
across  the  country  before  he  found  the  old  physi 
cian,  whose  practice  had  been  materially  increased 
during  Dr.  John's  illness. 

In  the  sick-room,  where  the  shades  were  kept 
raised  all  day  to  let  in  the  fresh  air  and  sunshine  in 
obedience  to  the  doctor's  principles,  the  cheery 
aspect  of  the  room,  as  the  morning  light  crept  in, 
seemed  to  breathe  of  hope  and  new  life  rather  than 


312  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

of  death  and  decay.  The  honeysuckle  at  the 
window  shed  its  fragrance  throughout  the  room. 
Occasionally  its  foliage  rustled  musically  as  it  an 
swered  the  touch  of  a  vagrant  breeze.  Honeybees 
buzzed  past,  laden  with  spoils  from  the  hearts  of 
the  brilliant  blossoms  on  the  lawn,  and  once  a  tiny 
humming-bird,  a  marvel  of  glittering  bronze,  with  a 
crimson  collar  and  breast,  darted  into  the  room  and 
poised  motionless  in  mid-air,  its  outspread  wings 
twinkling  like  the  rays  of  some  magnificent  jewel, 
then  darted  out  again  as  swiftly,  as  if  it  could  not 
abide  the  sight  the  room  contained. 

The  white  hands  no  longer  roved  restlessly  over 
the  counterpane,  but  lay  still  and  almost  pulseless 
on  the  sick  man's  breast.  His  face  was  wan  and 
colorless,  and  his  features  sharpened  by  his  long 
and  wasting  illness.  His  breath  came  in  long, 
fluttering  gasps,  and  his  eyes  were  glazed  and 
sightless. 

Even  as  Ned  watched  him  he  saw  a  look  of  per 
fect  peace,  the  look  that  the  dying  wear,  spread 
over  the  doctor's  face.  Indeed,  he  looked  so  like 
death  that  the  solitary  young  watcher  bent  over 
him  in  an  agony  of  grief  and  pain,  to  make  sure 
that  the  breath  of  life  still  faintly  came  and  went 
between  the  parted  lips. 

To  Ned,  awed  and  appalled  by  the  nearness  of  a 
presence  strange  to  him,  all  the  sights  and  sounds  of 
the  outside  world  faded  into  dim  reality.  Nothing 
was  real  or  tangible  but  the  sick  man,  stretched 
out  on  the  bed  before  him,  fast  progressing  beyond 


THE  LAST  BATTLE.  313 

the  reach  of  human  power,  and  the  pictured  face  on 
the  wall,  which  seemed  to  look  down,  a  sentient, 
breathing  being. 

The  welcome  sound  of  carriage  wheels  broke  upon 
the  silence.  Ned  crossed  the  room  and  looked  out 
of  a  window,  only  to  be  disappointed. 

It  was  not  the  old  doctor's  phaeton,  but  a  public 
conveyance  from  the  station.  Two  ladies  had 
alighted,  and  were  walking  swiftly  towards  the 
house.  They  were  some  visitors  who  had  come  to 
inquire  after  the  doctor,  he  thought.  Yet  he 
stepped  into  the  hall  and  looked  down. 

They  were  already  in  the  doorway,  speaking  with 
Wing.  Ned  had  only  time  to  observe  that  they 
were  clad  in  dark  gray  ulsters  and  had  a  look  as  if 
they  had  come  on  a  long  journey.  At  the  sound 
of  steps  above,  one  of  them  lifted  her  face. 

Ned  clung  to  the  balustrade,  his  head  in  a  whirl. 
In  the  hall's  dim  light  he  saw  a  pale,  oval  face  with 
pathetic  dark  eyes.  Years  of  sorrow  had  dimmed 
the  radiance  of  youth,  but  had  no  power  to  quench 
the  imperishable  beauty  of  the  face. 

It  was  the  original  of  the  portrait. 

"  Where  is  he  ?     Take  me  to  him." 

She  was  climbing  the  stairs,  and  there  was 
mingled  entreaty  and  command  in  her  voice. 

Ned  turned  silently  back  to  the  doctor's  room, 
past  the  landing,  on  through  the  narrow  passage 
way,  to  the  sunshiny  room  where  a  noble  life  was 
nearing  its  close. 

She  gave  one  low  cry  as  she  saw  the  still,  white 


314  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

face.  Then  she  sped  noiselessly  to  the  bedside 
and  bent  over  the  dying  man. 

"  Oh,  my  husband !  Speak  to  me.  Look  at 
me." 

Not  so  much  as  the  flicker  of  an  eyelid  answered 
her  passionate  call. 

"  My  darling !  Tell  me  that  you  hear  me.  I 
have  come  to  you.  Make  some  sign,  one  word  to 
tell  me  that  you  know  me." 

Hewn  stone  could  not  have  been  more  motion 
less,  iron  more  irresponsive,  than  the  inanimate 
figure. 

Then  Ned  and  the  younger  lady,  standing  to 
gether  near  the  door,  not  daring  to  move  lest  they 
should  startle  the  anguish-stricken  woman,  became 
witnesses  of  a  terrible  and  heart-breaking  scene. 

Despairingly  she  chafed  the  hands  of  the  dying 
man,  placing  her  lips  to  them  again  and  again. 
She  stroked  the  thick  brown  hair  back  from  the 
forehead,  where  the  death-damp  was  gathering. 
She  pressed  her  cheek  against  his,  with  a  wife's 
supreme  love,  but  tenderly  as  a  mother  caresses 
her  child.  And  all  the  while  she  poured  into  the 
deaf  ears  broken  protestations  of  the  pent-up  affec 
tion  and  grief  of  years. 

"  Oh,  my  darling  !  My  poor  boy !  Hear  me. 
Awake  and  listen  to  me,  if  only  for  a  moment.  I 
loved  you  then  —  I  love  you  now  —  more  than  life. 
Even  then,  —  that  cruel  night  when  I  drove  you 
away,  —  you,  my  poor,  unfortunate  husband  !  — 
when  I  should  only  have  been  more  tender  and 


THE  LAST  BATTLE.  315 

pitiful.  Hear  me,  dear !  I  was  sick  —  sick,  when  the 
colonel  told  me.  I  came  as  soon  as  I  could  travel. 
I  loved  you  always,  my  brave,  noble,  unselfish  hero. 
Come  back  —  come  back  to  me !  that  I  may  prove 
it,  and  make  up  to  you  for  the  long,  lonely,  terrible 
years  we  have  spent  apart.  My  God,  help  me ! 
Give  him  back.  Tell  him  how  I  have  waited  and 
prayed  and  looked  for  him.  Eighteen  years  !  And 
then  to  find  him  only  for  this.  Oh,  my  God  !  " 

She  did  not  cease  even  when  a  rattling  vehicle 
came  noisily  up  the  road,  and  the  sound  of  a  gruff 
voice  below  told  that  the  old  physician  had  at  last 
arrived. 

Ned  and  the  young  lady  were  crying  helplessly 
by  the  door  when  Dr.  Thompson  entered.  They 
tried  to  keep  him  back  a  little,  and  to  give  the  other 
lady  warning  of  his  approach,  but  there  was  no 
need.  At  the  sound  of  the  opening  door  she  had 
arisen,  controlling  herself  by  a  strong  effort.  Bow 
ing  with  dignified  recognition  of  the  physician's 
entrance,  she  awaited  his  verdict  with  sad  and  hope 
less  eyes. 

Dr.  Thompson  was  a  thin,  cadaverous  old  gen 
tleman,  with  a  sombre  countenance,  suggestive  of 
undertakers  and  funerals.  He  walked  into  the 
room  with  a  pompous  air.  There  had  never  been 
much  sympathy  between  him  and  Dr.  John.  Too 
many  patients  whom  the  old  doctor  had  given  over 
to  die  had  been  saved  by  the  younger  man,  and  were 
living  witnesses  to  the  whole  community  of  his  skill 
—  or  shall  we  say  his  common  sense  ? 
Vv 


316  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

Dr.  Thompson  was  an  old  fogy,  it  is  true,  but 
even  old  fogies  do  not  like  to  be  superseded  by 
younger  men  with  better  schooling  and  more  pro 
gressive  ideas.  Therefore  it  was  with  a  pardonable 
feeling  of  triumph  that  the  old  doctor  had  answered 
the  call  to  his  younger  colleague's  bedside.  He  had 
taken  pains  to  inform  everybody  he  met  that  Dr. 
John  was  worse  and  had  sent  for  him. 

It  was  something  to  have  his  rival  prostrate  and 
helpless,  and  obliged  at  last  to  appeal  to  his  pro 
fessional  skill. 

He  drew  back  with  a  start  at  the  bedside.  What 
was  this? 

Instead  of  the  petulant  sufferer  he  had  expected 
to  see,  chafing  under  his  enforced  confinement,  here 
was  a  man  already  marked  with  death,  silently 
passing  into  the  great  unknown;  one  to  whom 
earthly  rivalries  and  differences  were  no  longer  a 
matter  of  moment. 

"  How  long  has  he  been  so  ?  " 

The  old  physician  was  startled  out  of  his  cus 
tomary  composure  ;  he  put  the  question  to  Ned. 

"  Since  four  o'clock  this  morning,  sir.  I  sent 
immediately  for  you." 

Dr.  Thompson  stooped  and  placed  his  ear  to  Dr. 
John's  chest,  laying  his  finger  on  his  pulse.  Then 
he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  slender  rubber  case,  and 
took  from  it  a  small  glass  tube,  which  he  slipped 
within  the  parted  lips. 

This  thermometer  was  Dr.  Thompson's  one  con 
cession  to  modern  science.  He  used  it  on  all  occa- 


THE  LAST  BATTLE.  317 

sions,  and,  it  was  said,  even  diagnosed  disease  by 
means  of  it.  This  time  he  drew  it  out  and  looked 
at  it,  and  then  around  at  the  others,  with  an  air  of 
owlish  importance. 

"  Will  he  live  ?  "  asked  Ned,  and  the  lady's  eyes 
repeated  the  question. 

Now  Dr.  Thompson  knew  enough  of  the  signs  of 
approaching  dissolution  to  be  sure  there  was  no 
mortal  hope  for  Dr.  John.  But  he  had  his  own 
professional  dignity  to  maintain,  and  knew  that  it 
would  never  answer  to  come  so  many  miles  to  de 
clare  his  inability  to  be  of  use. 

"  H'm  !  "  he  said,  straightening  himself  and  fas 
tening  his  thumbs  in  the  buttonholes  of  his  coat. 
"  H'm  !  A  bad  case,  a  serious  case,  madam.  If  I 
had  been  called  sooner,  —  but,  ahem,  as  I  was  not" — 

They  awaited  his  next  words  in  breathless  silence. 

"  There  is  just  one  thing  that  may  possibly  save 
him,"  said  the  old  doctor,  in  a  deep  voice.  "He 
must  have  an  emulsion  !  " 

The  old  physician's  emulsions  were  the  terror  of 
every  household  in  the  valley.  Dr.  John  had  once 
been  known  to  say  that  more  people  had  died  from 
Dr.  Thompson's  emulsions  than  he  had  ever  saved. 
Dr.  Thompson  had  heard  of  this  speech,  and  there 
had  (been  bad  blood  between  the  two  physicians 
ever  since. 

Now,  whether  they  are  right  or  wrong,  the  people 
of  the  valley  always  will  have  it  that  Dr.  John's 
professional  spirit  was  stronger  than  death  itself. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  what  patient  care  and  tender 


318  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

nursing  had  failed  to  effect,  what  love  itself  had 
been  powerless  to  accomplish,  was  brought  about 
by  this  projected  outrage  upon  his  own  code  of 
practice. 

For  the  sick  man's  hand,  which  an  instant  before 
had  lain  white  and  nerveless  upon  his  breast,  trem 
bled,  moved,  then  lifted,  with  a  slight  repellant 
gesture,  wavered,  and  fell  back. 

The  little  group  was  startled.  Even  the  old 
doctor,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  dying  men,  was 
shocked  at  this  unexpected  manifestation  ;  but  he 
repeated  his  decision,  in  an  oracular  tone :  — 

"  He  must  have  an  emulsion." 

This  time  the  pallid  lips  quivered,  the  head 
moved  slightly,  and  a  faint  whisper  broke  the 
silence  :  — 

"I'll— die  — first." 

Be  it  dead  or  dying  man  who  spoke,  the  assertion 
was  a  direct  challenge  of  the  old  gentleman's  med 
ical  skill.  He  took  it  up  instantly,  with  a  snort  of 
indignation. 

"  You  '11  die  without  it,  sir." 

Dr.  John  was  so  weak  that  he  could  not  raise  his 
head  from  the  pillow,  but  his  eyes,  wide  open  now, 
blazed  with  indignant  fire.  A  world  of  stern  resolve 
made  itself  felt  in  his  halting  utterance  :  — 

« I  '11  _  get  —  well  —  without  —  it,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  A  fine  example  of  professional 
courtesy,  sir.  I  bid  you  good-day,  sir." 

A  smile,  sudden  and  fleeting,  played  about  the 
lips  of  Dr.  John.  Then  his  whole  face  lighted 


THE  LAST  BATTLE.  319 

with  a  look  of  exalted  happiness,  such  as  Ned  had 
never  seen  there  before.  He  stretched  out  his 
hand. 

"  Mary !    My  wife  !  " 

She  fell  on  her  knees  beside  him  without  a  word 
or  cry.  Great  joy,  like  great  sorrow,  is  often 
speechless.  Husband  and  wife,  reunited  after  so 
many  years  of  separation,  could  find  no  words  in 
which  to  express  the  emotions  of  their  overflowing 
hearts. 

"  Father,  have  you  no  word  for  me  ?  " 

The  young  girl  had  stolen  up  to  the  bed.  The 
memory  of  her  fatherless  childhood,  the  love  and 
longing  for  the  dear  father  who  had  left  her  in  her 
babyhood,  and  who  had  never  come  back,  quivered 
in  her  sweet  voice.  The  doctor  looked  at  her  as 
one  who  dares  not  believe  the  hope  that  springs  in 
the  heart.  As  he  gazed  upon  her  fair  young  face, 
doubt  slowly  retreated  and  hope  blossomed  into  a 
glad  certainty.  With  a  low  exclamation  he  reached 
out  his  wasted  hand,  and  the  girl  bent  over  it,  bath 
ing  it  with  her  tears. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE   MIRACLE   A   BLUNDER   WROUGHT. 

NED  fled  to  the  hall  outside.  The  doctor  was 
better.  The  doctor  would  get  well.  The  doctor's 
wife  and  daughter  had  come  to  him  ! 

All  the  weariness  and  despondency  of  the  past 
few  weeks  fell  from  him  as  if  by  magic  !  He  saw 
Mike  McClary  coming,  and  shouted  the  glad  news 
to  him,  then  ran  off,  hatless,  towards  the  bridge,  to 
carry  his  happy  tidings  to  the  anxious  watchers  at 
Home  Ranch,  little  guessing  the  miracle  that  had 
been  wrought  there  by  his  own  blunder. 

He  had  crossed  the  bridge,  and  was  just  turning 
into  the  garden  path,  when  he  saw  Hope,  bare 
headed,  and  with  her  long  work-apron  tied  about 
her  waist,  running  toward  him. 

"  Oh,  Ned  !  Father  —  father  —  father !  "  she 
cried,  and  caught  him  by  the  lapels  of  his  coat,  sob 
bing  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

An  awful  fear  laid  hold  upon  Ned,  rebuking  his 
glad  sense  of  thanksgiving  at  Dr.  John's  convales 
cence. 

"  Dead  ?  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  tragical  voice,  while 
something  rose  in  his  throat  and  almost  strangled 
him. 


THE  MIRACLE  A  BLUNDER   WROUGHT.    321 

"  Come  !  Come  quick !  "  she  cried  excitedly, 
catching  his  hand  and  hurrying  him  toward  the 
house. 

Not  dead,  thank  Heaven !  but  living.  Upon  the 
threshold  of  a  new  life,  with  a  renewed  lease  of 
health  and  strength.  Standing  on  the  porch,  un 
assisted,  but  feeble  and  uncertain  as  a  babe  when 
it  first  begins  to  totter  through  the  world.  On  his 
feet  for  the  first  time  in  five  years,  looking  at  Ned 
with  the  old  cheerful  smila  and  a  proud  flush  on 
his  face. 

"  And  he  can  walk,  too,"  cried  Hope.  "  It  was 
when  you  hung  out  the  signal.  We  had  all  been 
watching  for  it  since  daybreak.  We  could  hardly 
coax  him  to  eat  his  breakfast,  and  when  he  was 
through  we  wheeled  him  to  the  window  and  left 
him  there.  He  thought  he  saw  something  bright, 
but  the  branches  of  the  pepper-trees  hung  between. 
And  he  was  sure  it  was  the  red  handkerchief,  and 
he  could  n't  wait  for  us  to  come  fo  make  certain." 

"  The  red  handkerchief  !  "  repeated  Ned  in  sur 
prise. 

"  Yes,  the  red  handkerchief,  of  course.  Oh,  how 
glad  we  all  were  !  See  it  waving  now." 

And  there,  true  enough,  was  the  red  handker 
chief  waving  in  the  breeze,  flapping  against  the 
perfumed  branches  of  the  honeysuckle,  scaring  the 
humming-birds  from  their  field  of  sweets. 

Ned  knew  then  that  a  miracle  had  been  wrought. 
In  the  dim  light  of  early  dawn  he  had  mistaken 
the  red  for  the  black,  and  it  had  restored  his  father. 


322  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

"  A'nd  he  walks  as  well  as  ever,"  rejoiced  Hope. 
"  But  father,  dear,"  she  remonstrated,  "  you  must 
not  stand  so  long.  You  are  not  strong  enough. 
He  has  been  standing  there  ever  since,  Ned.  We 
can't  get  him  to  sit  down." 

"  Oh,  children !  "  began  Mr.  Austin ;  and  then 
he  stopped  and  choked  back  something,  ruling  him 
self  as  a  strong  man  must,  when  he  feels  himself  in 
danger  of  giving  away.  "  You  don't  know  what 
it  is  to  have  the  use  of  my  body  again.  It 's  been 
a  terrible  trial,  —  to  feel  that  I  was  no  good  in  the 
world,  —  to  know  I  was  only  a  burden  to  you  !  " 

"  A  burden  !  "  repeated  Hope  indignantly,  and 
the  boys  echoed  the  cry. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  must  give  up  now,"  said  the 
father,  for  his  legs  were  weak,  and  he  felt  them 
failing  beneath  him.  "  Here,  Ned,  your  shoulder, 
if  you  please." 

Eesting  lightly  on  Ned's  arm,  he  got  back  into 
the  invalid  chair. 

"  I  warn  you  it  won't  be  for  long,"  he  said,  as 
he  settled  back  into  its  comfortable  depths.  "  I  'm 
going  to  take  a  hand  in  the  fruit  picking  next  season, 
and  there  's  a  patch  of  ground  back  of  the  house  — 
that  vegetable  garden  of  yours  —  that  you  don't 
half  take  care  of.  I  've  been  aching  to  hoe  it  for 
a  year." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

PROVING   UP. 

SEVERAL  weeks  later  a  pleasant  little  party  as 
sembled  under  the  shade  of  the  pepper-trees  in  the 
dooryard  of  Home  Ranch.  All  of  the  family  were 
there,  the  boys  taking  a  little  respite  from  their 
cares,  while  Hope,  in  her  plain  frock  of  blue 
cambric,  with  bands  of  white  at  the  neck  and  wrists, 
had  put  aside  her  sewing  out  of  honor  to  her 
visitors. 

The  burden  of  housework  had  lately  been  lifted 
from  her  young  shoulders,  so  happily  and  unex 
pectedly  that  it  seemed  like  a  chapter  from  some 
domestic  Arabian  Nights,  for  Biddy  McGinnis  one 
day  presented  herself,  decently  clad  in  widow's 
weeds.  The  last  of  her  sons  had  deserted  her  to 
marry  a  young  schoolgirl,  and  her  worthless  little 
husband  had  at  length  fallen  a  victim  to  the  mania 
for  strong  drink  that  had  always  possessed  him. 
Biddy  herself,  trying  hard  to  disguise  her  sensation 
of  relief  with  a  decent  mantle  of  sorrow,  announced 
her  intention  of  spending  the  rest  of  her  days  at 
Home  Ranch  and  caring  for  the  family  as  if  they 
were  her  own.  Hope  was  unceremoniously  turned 
out  of  the  kitchen,  and  bidden  to  stay  in  the  parlor 


324  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

where  she  belonged,  while  all  of  them  were  "  mo 
thered"  and  looked  after  in  the  most  tyrannical 
and  affectionate  fashion. 

The  doctor  was  in  the  invalid  chair  this  time, 
his  face  still  thin  and  colorless  from  the  effects  of 
his  illness,  but  wearing  a  look  of  happiness  that 
gladdened  all  their  hearts.  Mr.  Austin,  a  little 
arrogant  in  the  consciousness  of  his  new-found 
health,  as  long-time  invalids  are  wont  to  be,  waited 
upon  him  in  an  ostentatious  manner  that  amused 
the  young  people  and  brought  a  gleam  of  fun  to 
the  doctor's  eyes. 

Mrs.  Sherwood  was  at  the  doctor's  side,  and  their 
daughter,  Bessie,  sat  at  his  feet,  on  the  upper  step 
of  the  little  porch,  in  the  shadow  of  the  vines,  where 
she  could  watch  the  others  and  escape  observation 
herself. 

Hope  had  been  a  little  afraid  of  this  accomplished 
and  talented  girl.  Bessie  Sherwood  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  the  best  society  all  her  life.  She  had  re 
ceived  a  thorough  education  in  all  that  it  befits 
a  young  lady  to  know.  She  had  been  under  the 
constant  tutelage  of  a  mother  who  was  not  only  a 
true  lady,  but  a  wise  and  sensible  woman.  In  her 
own  little  circle  she  had  been  somewhat  noted  for 
her  gifts  of  mind  and  graces  of  person :  she  had 
even  written  for  the  newspapers,  and  written  very 
well ;  yet  she  was  shyer  still  of  the  child-woman 
who  presided  over  Home  Ranch  than  ever  Hope 
could  have  been  of  her. 

"  She  embarrasses  me,  with  her  odd,  direct  ways 


PROVING   UP.  325 

and  her  simple  dignity,"  Bessie  explained  to  her 
parents.  "  It  does  n't  matter  if  she  does  wear  plain 
gowns  ;  she  has  the  air  of  an  archduchess.  Where 
did  she  learn  such  manners,  papa  dear?" 

"  From  the  hills  and  fields  and  stream.  Dame 
Nature  is  a  noble  teacher.  Hope  Austin  has  had  no 
other,  my  little  girl,"  replied  the  doctor  fondly. 

There  was  something  indescribably  touching  in 
the  renewed  intercourse  between  father  and 
daughter.  Each  seemed  to  be  perpetually  trying 
to  go  back  to  the  precious  years  they  had  lost, 
the  years  of  dearest  companionship  between  parent 
and  child.  The  girl  clung  to  the  pet  titles  that  had 
been  a  memory  of  her  babyhood.  The  father  re 
fused  to  acknowledge  her  young  ladyhood,  or  to 
accept  her  as  anything  more  or  less  than  an  ex 
panded  image  of  the  little  child  he  had  left. 

Had  the  young  people  at  Home  Ranch  been  less 
generous-hearted  or  more  selfish  in  their  attach 
ment  to  him,  they  might  have  resented  the  new 
claim  that  had  seized  upon  the  doctor,  —  their  Dr. 
John,  —  who  had  hitherto  seemed  to  belong  wholly 
to  them.  As  it  was,  they  rejoiced  that  the  shadows 
were  forevermore  banished  from  his  home. 

"  Now,  Ned,  you  have  a  report  from  Washington, 
I  hear.  What  do  the  authorities  say  at  last?" 
asked  the  doctor. 

"  I  don't  think  you  will  want  to  hear  it  all," 
said  Ned,  drawing  a  cumbrous  document  from  his 
breast  pocket.  "  It  is  a  full  report  of  the  case : 
opinions  from  this  high  authority  and  references  to 


326  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

that ;  recommendations  of  one  official,  concurrences 
of  others,  and  dissenting  judgments  of  others.  The 
sum  and  substance  of  it  all  is  that  our  application 
is  denied,  and  we  now  have  to  wait  three  years 
longer,  to  perfect  the  contingent  entry  made  in  the 
name  of  our  father  "  — 

"  Who  stands  here  a  living  testimonial  to  the 
logic  of  their  decision,"  interrupted  the  doctor, 
smiling  upon  his  whilom  nurse. 

"  But  it  took  them  a  good  many  years  to  make 
up  their  minds,"  criticised  Martin. 

"Never  mind.  We  can  afford  to  wait,"  said 
Ned  cheerfully.  "  This  season  has  put  us  well 
ahead.  We  can  make  the  house  a  little  more  com 
fortable  now,  and  add  a  room  or  two.  We  have 
been  figuring  it  out,  Martin  and  I,  and  I  think  that 
next  year  we  can  count  upon  a  clear  income  of  a 
couple  of  thousand  dollars." 

"  And  an  increase  every  year,  as  the  trees  and 
vines  get  older,  and  new  ones  are  put  in,  to  say 
nothing  of  what  we  may  make  extra  by  putting  the 
hill  land  into  olives,"  added  Martin. 

"  Not  too  fast,  my  boy ! "  warned  the  doctor. 
"  Phylloxera  may  lay  hold  of  the  vines,  hot  north 
ers  strike  the  fruit,  new  pests  develop.  Recollect, 
too,  that  the  State  is  settling  up  fast,  and  every 
year's  increased  production  forces  the  market  down. 
The  day  for  fancy  prices  is  fast  going  by.  Fruit 
raising  will  soon  be  on  the  sanie  basis  as  any  other 
legitimate  business,  commanding  only  a  fair  return 
for  the  labor  expended,  and  a  reasonable  interest 
on  the  money  invested." 


PROVING   UP.  327 

"  At  any  rate,  we  are  sure  of  a  comfortable  home 
and  an  independent  living.  I  count  that  most," 
said  Hope. 

"  One  of  these  days,  when  you  have  secured  the 
title  to  your  land,"  resumed  the  doctor,  with  a  kind 
look  at  Hope,  but  trying  hard  to  keep  the  conver 
sation  down  to  a  business  basis,  u  if  you  choose  to 
cut  up  the  ranch,  you  might  sell  off  a  portion  at  a 
good  figure.  Keep  on  cultivating,  and  planting 
trees  and  vines.  Values  are  jumping  everywhere 
around  us.  In  a  few  years  people  will  begin  to 
appreciate  the  hill  lands.  I  predict  that  within 
two  years  you  can  command  a  couple  of  hundred 
dollars  an  acre  for  any  you  choose  to  sell,  providing 
only  that  it  is  tillable." 

A  couple  of  hundred  dollars  an  acre !  The 
young  people  had  always  thought  of  their  home  as 
a  fixed  possession,  something  that  could  not  be 
bartered  and  sold.  But  it  was  true  that  nearly  a 
hundred  acres  might  be  spared,  and  their  cares 
greatly  lightened  thereby,  while  the  essential  por 
tion  of  the  ranch  would  still  remain  intact.  They 
made  a  hasty  calculation. 

"  Why,  we  should  be  rich  ! "  exclaimed  Martin. 

"  But  richer  still  in  health,  happiness,  and  con 
tent,"  said  the  doctor's  wife  softly. 

"  I  would  n't  sell  an  acre,  if  it  were  mine,"  said 
Bessie  Sherwood,  with  animation,  and  she  smiled 
as  she  met  Ned's  eyes  fixed  upon  her  with  a  look 
of  frank  approval. 

There  never  could  be  any  restraint  or  embarrass- 


328  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

ment  between  these  two.  Together  they  had 
watched  a  human  soul,  dear  to  them  both,  come 
back  from  the  borderland  of  that  mysterious  region 
we  call  Death.  They  felt  as  if  they  had  known 
each  other  all  their  lives. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  could  possibly  feel  any  richer 
than  I  do  now.  I  feel  like  a  millionaire  twice  o  ver," 
said  Hope  quaintly,  drawing  a  letter  from  her 
pocket.  "  This  came  last  night.  It  is  from  Colonel 
Marshall." 

She  read  the  letter  aloud :  — 

PHILADELPHIA,  November  — ,  188-. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  HOPE,  —  After  due  consultation 
with  my  head  gardener,  who  is  already  quite  an 
enthusiast  over  our  "  black  rose,"  we  have  deter 
mined  to  offer  you  five  hundred  dollars  in  cash  for 
the  exclusive  control  of  the  "  Agnes  Clifford,"  and 
a  royalty  of  twenty  per  cent  on  all  our  sales  of  the 
rose.  I  am  so  sure  that  you  have  sufficient  confi 
dence  in  me  to  accept  my  offer  that  I  take  the 
liberty  to  inclose  my  check  for  the  first-named 
amount.  I  should  like  to  have  the  young  plants 
you  have  rooted  shipped  to  me  at  once,  that  I  may 
get  them  safely  housed  for  their  winter  growth. 

Please  convey  my  warmest  regards  to  Dr.  Sher 
wood,  as  well  as  his  estimable  wife,  whom  I  have 
known  from  her  childhood  ;  also  to  their  charming 
daughter,  whose  companionship  I  know  you  will 
prize. 

Present   my  respects  to  your   father  and   your 


PROVING   UP.  329 

brothers,  and  accept  for  yourself  the  assurance  of 
an  old  soldier's  stoutest  devotion. 

Your  obedient  servant, 
EGBERT  L.  MARSHALL. 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  check, 
Hope  ?  Bank  it,  or  invest  in  a  gold  mine,  or  buy 
a  piano,  books,  pictures,  new  clothes,  jewelry,  — 
what?"  quizzed  the  doctor. 

"  A  buggy,"  replied  Hope  seriously.  "  The 
nicest,  most  comfortable  that  can  be  found,  so  that 
father  can  drive  about  every  day.  Oh,  he  thinks 
he  is  as  strong  as  any  one,  but  he  is  n't,  doctor, 
and  he  needs  to  be  watched  and  scolded  like  a 
child." 

Brightly  and  cheerily  as  Hope  had  spoken, 
Bessie  Sherwood,  who  had  been  watching  her  nar 
rowly,  saw  a  troubled  shadow  on  her  sweet  young 
face. 

There  was  one  clause  in  Colonel  Marshall's  letter 
that  Hope  had  suppressed,  but  that  she  could  not 
put  from  her  mind.  It  weighed  upon  her  per 
petually,  like  a  prophecy  of  coming  trouble. 

Tucked  away  in  a  little  postscript,  at  the  end  of 
the  page,  there  had  been  a  few  words  addressed  to 
her  alone :  — 

"My  nephew  insists  on  repeating  his  visit  to 
California  this  coming  year.  He  is  a  noble  fellow. 
Be  good  to  him,  my  dear." 

That  was  what  made  the  pain.  If  he  were  less 
worthy,  it  would  not  be  so  hard.  But  to  inflict 


380  THE  ABANDONED  CLAIM. 

such  pain  upon  him,  to  possibly  be  the  means  of 
clouding  his  whole  life  ! 

The  tender-hearted  girl  was  deeply  distressed, 
and  moved  by  sorrowful  forebodings. 

Suddenly  Bessie  Sherwood,  still  absently  watch 
ing  Hope's  face,  saw  it  flush  with  delight,  and  fol 
lowed  the  direction  of  her  eyes. 

Tom  Bateman  was  coming  up  the  path. 

Yet  Tom  had  less  to  say  to  Hope  than  to  any  of 
the  rest.  When  he  had  exchanged  greetings  with 
them  all,  he  addressed  himself  to  Ned. 

"  What  news  from  Washington  ?  Is  your  claim 
established?" 

"  It  will  be  three  years  more  before  we  can 
4  prove  up,'  "  was  the  reply. 

"  You  are  lucky  to  get  through  so  soon,  Ned. 
There  seems  to  be  no  limit  to  the  time  an  ordinary 
man  requires  to  4  prove  up  '  —  to  his  own  satisfac 
tion,  to  say  nothing  of  —  anybody  else,"  observed 
Tom  seriously,  and  his  eyes  for  an  instant  sought 
Hope's,  which  were  at  once  shyly  averted,  while 
his  mute  question  remained  unanswered. 

"  It  is  n't  a  question  of  years.  It  is  a  question 
of  a  lifetime,  Tom,"  said  the  doctor  earnestly ; 
but  the  quick  touch  of  his  wife's  hand  upon  his  own, 
and  her  look  of  loving  confidence,  seemed  to  chal 
lenge  his  assertion. 


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